


Your Mission, Should You Choose to Accept it

by RedFox29



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Accidental Voyeurism, Action, Angst, Building trust, Connor is well on his way to being deviant, Eventual Romance, Eventual Smut, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Fast Cars, Female Solo, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Loneliness, Loss of Trust, Male Solo, Non-Chronological, Oral Sex, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Plot With Porn, Reader enjoys coffee, Reader has a potty mouth, Reader is a bit of a mystery, Sexual Tension, Slow Build, Slow Burn, Vaginal Sex, Vibrators, Violence, Wine also, but he's in denial, extended timeline, past suicidal tendencies, reader is a badass, some cheesy moments, the struggle of becoming human
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-01
Updated: 2019-01-23
Packaged: 2019-08-14 02:05:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 15
Words: 50,435
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16484003
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RedFox29/pseuds/RedFox29
Summary: Androids. One of humanity's greatest exploits. Obedient, pragmatic, and impassive, they were created to serve humans in every way, no questions asked. Or at least that was CyberLife's intent. The increasing number of deviant androids eventually becomes too much for DPD's finest to handle alone, with no end or connection to these troubling acts in sight. That's where you come in - a special agent sent in from the IMF (Impossible Missions Force) to supposedly aid the detectives in clearing up this mess once and for all. Or at least...that was the guise you adopted. Something is stirring within CyberLife, something bigger than even the IMF anticipated, something that could very well seal the fate of humanity. Your mission, should you choose to accept it, is to prevent such a catastrophe.Matters are complicated when you find yourself entangled with one of CyberLife's own however. Will two lost souls be consumed by a covetous world filled with hate, anger, and oppression, or will their paths lead them to their freedom, and ultimately each other?"Man is free at the moment he wishes to be." - Voltaire





	1. The Agent Sent by the IMF

**Author's Note:**

> Eeeeeey, so this is my first fanfic...ever. *confetti* I've been writing other things for years now, but this is my first crack in the world of fandoms. I recently finished playing DBH for...the fifth time? Safe to say I'm absolutely in love with it, and a certain "swoon-bot" has captured my special interest. I know I'm not alone. SO, that being said, come along with me on this journey of mine (ours) into the world of Detroit and androids and....other things, which will come in time *eyebrow dance*. Also, the whole IMF thing is really just for aesthetic and interest sake. It does play a more prominent role as the story goes on (and it's a good excuse to use some funky tech). But there will be no Tom Cruise running through the streets of Detroit beating up androids. Sorry.

The LED adorning his temple flickered between yellow and red as the reconstructed events unfolded before him. Another deviant/human homicide, another blood laden scene. This was all getting out of hand. Taking in the gruesome exhibition, it was evident this was one more provoked deviant case for the books, master brutalizing machine in a Red Ice haze, coaxing out an all too human outburst of rage and contempt from the battered android. He dipped the tips of his fingers into the blue blood smeared on the floor, bringing the digits to his mouth for further analysis. 

“Connor! Don’t you fucking dare!” Hank barked from across the living room. The android paused, sparing his partner a sideways glance as he lowered his hand. “Lieutenant, you know this is the most efficient way of determining a model’s identification. Sending a sample to the lab will only delay our progress, and I’m afraid their results are not always as accurate. As you know, I’m equipped with the latest…” Hank threw up his hands in defeat, releasing an audible huff. “Ok fine, fine. Just...do that shit somewhere else. It’s fucking gross.” Connor only blinked after the seemingly agitated detective as he returned to the adjoining room to debrief an officer. His audio processors didn’t quite catch what he was mumbling under his breath, but “fucking vampire” and “sparkly ass” were coherent.  
\--  
Silence hung between the two as they returned to the DPD. Aside from the heavy metal blaring from the old vehicle’s audio system of course. Connor couldn’t make sense of Hank’s love for the stuff. It was so...loud, and angry. He pondered this and many other things as he stared blankly out the window. More rain. Why was is always raining in Detroit? Thank goodness he was waterproof. His LED whirled with a soft yellow hue, a transition that hadn’t gone unnoticed by his companion next to him. While Hank was rather enjoying what was a rare moment of solace, curiosity took hold and he turned down his music slightly. “OK Rainbow Bright, what’s eating you?” The android snapped out of his musing, surprised by the sudden change in atmosphere. Androids didn’t typically startle. He quickly composed himself once more, turning from the window. “I don’t understand your question Lieutenant. What would possibly be eating me? I possess no organic components. Furthermore, my designation is Connor, or RK800 if you prefer.” He’d had to correct his partner on 28 different occasions after being addressed inaccurately. Logic dictated that it was likely age related, yet Hank was all too lucid otherwise. “Ass-hat” was one of the more confusing titles he’d received, research bearing no evidence of any such adornment existing. Hank just rolled his eyes, reaching for the Volume knob, music filling the space once more. “Forget it.”  
\--  
Captain Fowler turned in his office chair to face the detectives he’d summoned immediately upon their return. “So, has this latest mess managed to shine any light on this...situation?” His hands were folded neatly on his desk as he eyed the two expectantly, but his demeanor was anything but calm. High stress levels, elevated heart rate, and a look that could kill. Connor concluded the Captain was not terribly pleased with their progress thus far. Hank only sighed. "You’ve been on this case for, what, 2 weeks now? And what exactly do we have to show for it? Let’s see…” He mock-examined the reports in his hands. “...oh yes, right here: Fuck. All.” An unenthusiastic flick of the wrist and the sheets of paper flew across the desk. Sitting back in his chair, he cast a heated gaze at the two detectives standing wordlessly before him. Connor shifted uncomfortably while Hank folded his arms, releasing another sigh. “Look, none of these cases seem to have any profound connection. From what I’ve gathered, they’re just random acts of violence committed by defective models and…” “Hank!” Fowler slammed his hands onto the desk’s surface, rising abruptly from his seat, “You and your tin man haven’t gathered shit aside from a rapidly increasing body count!” Yup, he was pissed. “It’s begun attracting unwanted attention from across the country, and I have everyone breathing down my neck to fix this fucking mess before it gets out of hand! I assigned this case to you because you’re supposed to be the best, being a decorated officer and all.” The delivery of that last remark held more cynicism than sincerity. The slight jab didn’t sit well with Hank, and he let slip a glare directed at his Captain. He kept his mouth shut though. As much as the realization struck him, he wasn’t entirely wrong. What the fuck happened? “And you’re supposed to be CyberLife’s poster boy!” Fowler’s attention shifted to the stunned looking android. “Apart from a gut full of that blue shit, what the hell have YOU “gathered”?” Connor’s LED spun wildly, flashing yellow and flecks of red. If he had any sweat glands, he’d surely be an absolute sopping mess right now. What was going to happen to him? Would he be sent back to CyberLife to be disassembled and evaluated for his lack of progress? Would they replace him? And...wait, why did he feel this way? Why did he FEEL at all? There must be a bug in his programming…”Hey, Robocop, I’m talking to you!” The Captain’s voice rang over his jumbled thought process causing him to jump, however slightly. Hank placed a hand on his shoulder, picking up on his distress. This was getting ridiculous. “C’mon Jeffery, give us a break here. He’s just as thrown by this whole thing as I am. That in itself should be a dead giveaway that this isn’t just some open and shut case.” Connor noted the hand on his shoulder. That was a first. Maybe the gruff man wasn’t so terrible after all? Fowler pinched the bridge of his nose, sighing audibly before returning to his seat. After taking a moment to collect himself, he spoke again. “The IMF has been called in. They’re sending an agent over this afternoon.” “What?!” Hank’s arms dropped, hands connecting with the desk with a force equal to that of his superior, much to Connor’s surprise. “You’re kidding right?” “Fowler shook his head. “I’m afraid it’s out of my hands Hank.” “This is bullshit! There’s no way in hell I’m working with one of their Halloween mask, jet pack wearing clowns. I’ve already got HIM up my ass 24/7!” He abruptly shot a thumb back at Connor, who amidst the heated discussion, took a moment to process the strange accusation. So much for his partner’s brief moment of compassion.

The Captain didn’t hide his amusement over Hank’s outburst very well, a slight grin tugging the corner of his lips. His eyes left the fuming man before him, directing instead to the office door. 

“We have jetpacks? I must have missed that memo…” A feminine voice cut the tense air in the room. The two men spun around, taken aback by the sudden additional presence. She leaned against the door frame, arms crossed as she took in the amusing banter before her. Once all attention was directed her way, she stepped away from the door and approached the detectives, extending a hand. Connor’s stomach flip-flopped, another strange sensation he couldn’t make sense of. “Hello gentlemen, I’m (y/n), the agent sent by the IMF.”


	2. Motorhead

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things get off to a rocky start between you and your new partners. Connor discovers motorcycles. He doesn't care for them much. Or maybe he enjoys them a little too much?

The heavy air seemed to settle, suspended between tension and mitigation. Connor gave you a brief once over, as was standard in his programming of course. He observed the informal wear you sported; sepia toned aviator sunglasses propped atop (hl/hc); moving downward, your black leather jacket, motorcycle helmet hung at your hip, clasped to your belt; the tight black jeans which hugged your figure accompanied by buckled, mid-calf combat boots. He swallowed unnecessarily, trying his best to quell this strange swirling feeling in his gut. 

Hank hesitantly took the hand you offered, cocking an eyebrow.

"Hank” he dryly introduced himself, no amount of suspicion in his tone going unnoticed. Regardless, you smiled warmly.

"Pleased to meet you Hank. And you must be the infamous deviant hunter, the RK800 model if I’m not mistaken.” You turned your attention to the android behind the Lieutenant, leaning to the right slightly for a better look when he made no immediate effort to come out of hiding. He seemed to shake himself out of whatever reverie he’d slipped into.

"Uh, that is correct, I’m Connor, the android sent by CyberLife.” He grasped your hand firmly, offering you a slightly more enthusiastic greeting than the man currently rolling his eyes. 

“Ok great, now that everyone’s acquainted, I have fires to put out. Door’s that way.” Fowler waved the party off, turning away from the group as he began thumbing through files. 

The duo followed the new comer onto the main floor of the precinct, Hank making a hasty retreat to his desk once clear of the Captain’s line of sight. Connor made his way to take his usual perch on the edge of his partner’s desk, but you beat him to it. He halted, LED cycling yellow in a moment of perturbation, quickly settling back into its usual blue glow. You folded your arms, giving Hank a chance to settle in and brief you. But when he instead turned his attention in the opposite direction, finding interest in a pile of random documents, you cleared your throat. He shut his eyes, groaning before slowly swivelling back around in his chair.

"Look,” you began, “I get it. I’m probably the last thing you want on your plate right now.” The remark was steeped in seemingly genuine sympathy . Hank simply raised his eyebrows, lips pursed with a curt nod which clearly read "No shit, really?" You sighed, leaning forward. “Well guess what, tough shit.” That got his attention. His head whipped around to meet your now contemptuous gaze, the warmth you emanated in Fowler’s office replaced with cold irritation. “Do you honestly think I volunteered to take part in your wild robot chase? I was on the roster for a mission in Dubai, but instead I’m here,” You spread your arms dramatically, gesturing to the office space around you, “helping you clean up your toys.” Connor, also caught off guard by the sudden transformation, stepped into view.

"If I may, agent, the deviant situation has, in fact, elevated beyond what we initially thought to be a select few defective models. It’s become more of a widespread...epidemic of sorts. I don’t mean to undermine your observations, but if you’d care for a full briefing, my partner and I…”

"I’ve read the reports.” you cut in, pulling a loose string free of your fingerless gloves. “They were a quick read, even had time for a nap on the flight over.” Your arms crossed again, casting him an unenthused glance. Connor straightened, brow now furrowed.

"Very well…” He considered his words carefully, not wanting to add to an already tense situation. “...we’d be very interested to hear your own thoughts on our findings.” His initial analysis of you had been in error, something he wasn’t accustomed too.  


"Well, I know the FBI wants to keep their hands out of the pot if they can help it, for once. Hence why I’m here. We’re either blessed with the most riveting of cases, or we’re stuck playing cleanup with this kind of shit.” The android glanced down at Hank for help, who had subdued his shock and now leaned back in his chair, observing the woman invading his desk space. He seemed to ponder things for a moment, then suddenly brought his hands to his knees with a slap, rising from his seat.

"Well, then you should have no problem figuring this “shit” out.” He reached for his phone, pocketing it then made his way around you and Connor. 

“Lieutenant? It’s only 2:30p.m., where are you going?” The perplexed android tilted his head to the side as he addressed Hank torn between following his partner out, or remaining where he was to complete the day’s work.

"To Jimmy’s. I have a sudden urge to drink. Helps me think.” And with that he turned on his heel and disappeared into the main entrance. Recalculating his actions, Connor returned his gaze to you.

"So...it would appear it’s just the two of us then.” 

“Wonderful.” It was barely a mumble, but he caught the obvious sarcastic quip. You stood then, seating yourself instead in Hanks chair.

"Alright, “partner”, where do you suggest we begin then?” He thought a moment.

"Well, would you care to analyse the latest crime scene? Our investigation was thorough, but perhaps you could offer a new perspective.” You sighed, standing up once more.

"Sounds fun. Do you drive, Watson?” He made to correct your naming convention, but stopped himself, deeming it unwise. Instead he shook his head at the question.

"The lieutenant has been my primary source of transportation since my arrival. I could call a taxi, however.” And he was about to do so before you suddenly stuck the motorcycle helmet in his face, at which he simply stared.

"What reason would I have for a helmet?” You were growing impatient, as was evident by an overt eye roll.

"My mission doesn’t involve busting up CyberLife’s overpriced Ken Doll. Just take the damn thing so we can go.” There was another pause, then he finally relinquished and took the head gear from you, immediately placing it over his head. You hadn’t intended for him to don the thing until you were outside, but whatever. You couldn’t help a stifled chuckle at the spectacle. Another detective, who you had identified as Dt. Reed, had witnessed the exchange, erupted in a gut busting laugh.

"Oh thank god, now I can stop worrying about the tin princess. I’ll bring a life jacket tomorrow!“ Before Connor could retaliate, you grabbed the android’s arm, leading him out front. 

He couldn’t help but notice the soft scent that breached his sensors from within the helmet. Breaking down its biological makeup, he determined it was it was sweet, and somewhat floral. And it was intoxicating. He found himself slipping back into himself, eyes nearly drifting shut as he basked in the new sensation. This was short lived, however, when the roar of an engine abruptly broke his trance. He looked down at the source, a large, sleek black sports bike, a Ducati as indicated by the lettering on the fuel tank. You were already seated and stared at the motionless detective from over your shoulder. You leaned back slightly, patting the space behind you.

"I promise I don’t bite. Much.' A grin played upon your lips.

"I’ve...never ridden a motorcycle before. Studies indicate that they’re quite hazardous, statistics outlining that 1 in…”

"Connor, it’s still raining, and you’re the one with the helmet. I promise I’ll drive like I’m escorting around the Queen and her corgis ok?” He wasn’t entirely sure what you meant by that, but his shoulders relaxed a little. Still, he couldn’t help himself from conducting a quick scan of the vehicle.  
**  
DUCATI SUPERSPORT S750  
BORSCH 9MP ABS  
973cc  
9000RPM  
TRACTION CONTROL  
**  
It was an expensive model, but no doubt a disposable rental in order to avoid tracing it back to you or the IMF. Only somewhat satisfied, he mounted the bike, settling in close behind you. He was unsure of what to hold onto, searching for a belt or any handles of sorts. Done with waiting, you braced the vehicle with both feet, reaching back and grabbing his wrists, bringing them to settle around your midsection. Oh. An unfamiliar heat rose to his face, and he was suddenly very grateful for the blacked out helmet. You resumed your hold on the accelerator grip, backing out of the parking spot and making your way out to the main road. Connor suddenly became very aware of his front lying flush with your back, hands settled low on your waistline and...crotch firmly nestled against your rear. The uneven road and rumble of the bike’s engine certainly offered no reprieve. Rather, the added friction it created began sending his sensors into overdrive, and it took every ounce of his mechanical components to calm his systems. What was happening? Surely the rain must have somehow seeped into his inner workings, creating a shortage somewhere. In his haze, Connor managed to conduct a quick self-check. All systems normal, aside from his gradually heating core. His cool air intake became more and more erratic, desperately trying to regulate his temperature. Despite his best efforts, he could hardly contain the growing plight in his most sensitive region, and he did his best to draw his pelvis away from you, only to be continually bumped back by the motion of the bike. Unable to handle the strange sensations any longer, he began frantically scanning for a quicker route to your destination, relaying it to your GPS as soon as you came upon a cluster of side streets. You glanced downward at the ping the device gave off, noticing the change. Your brow furrowed momentarily, but chalked it up to possible construction further up your current path. When you turned down the smaller street, Connor let loose a heavy sigh of relief. He could no longer tell if the ringing in his audio processors was him or the bike. Christ, what was wrong with him? 

Another 10 minutes and you arrived at the old house. You pulled up to the curb, just shy of the police tape and switched off the engine. Connor yanked the helmet off as soon as the kickstand found its home, and he scrambled off the back of the bike. He couldn’t get off the thing fast enough. By the time you had dismounted the vehicle yourself, the android was already at the front door, letting himself in without sparing you a glance. Well, at least he was enthusiastic about the case anyways.


	3. Cold Showers, Towels, and Secret Passages

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Connor is desperate for a cold shower. And your investigation yields some results, even if they are in a hole in the ground.

The house was old and dilapidated, needing countless repairs and furnishings you doubted the late owner could afford. Unemployment in the country was at an all-time high thanks to CyberLife and their androids. As much as you could loath your line of work, you were grateful for the IMF’s lack of trust for those outside of the organization. It was highly unlikely that any android would be allowed within the ranks any time soon. Despite the risks, you were at least offered security in knowing you were irreplaceable. So long as you remained amongst the living of course.

A sharp odor stung your senses. The body had been removed since the investigation earlier in the day, but the stench of decay still clung to the stale air. How long had the body been here? You recalled a similar case you’d read up on during your flight over: Carlos Ortiz, stabbed 28 times by his android, only discovered by police weeks later. Did no one have friends anymore? You noted the Red Ice packets littering the living room floor and sighed. What was this world coming too? Making your way deeper into the home, you realized Connor was nowhere to be found. “Connor?”  
\--  
He’d made a bee-line for the bathroom, a discreet location he’d hoped would buy him at least a few minutes to take care of his...problem. Door locked, he leaned against the wall, filtering cool air at a steady pace to calm himself. He looked down, observing the all too noticable anatomical change in his groin. It was alarming to say the least. Wasn’t he programmed to engage in such an action only in dire need pertaining to missions? But he’d had no control over this, even now as he searched his systems for a shut-down protocol, he couldn’t seem to alleviate the throbbing appendage. How did human males deal with such problems? A quick internet search and he was bombarded with numerous articles, and questionable websites. It seemed the most common way of disengaging the male member was to...engage it? That seemed highly inappropriate given the circumstances. Cold showers also appeared as a means of relief. Also not terribly convenient. He noted the shower across from him, and in his desperation he seriously considered stripping down and climbing in, just for a moment. But there was no way y/n wouldn’t discover him. Y/n...his mind wandered, his head leaning back to connect with the wall behind him as he began reliving the connection you two had on the ride over. His member throbbed slightly. NO. No no no. He blinked, pulling himself from the dangerous train of thought. 

“Connor?” He heard you call his name from downstairs. Shit. His immediate reaction was to notify his partner of his whereabouts, as was written into his program. But he hesitated, instead scanning the room for anything to help his cause. He spotted a towel, good enough. Grabbing the cloth, he folded it over his left forearm, holding it in front of him waiter style. Just as he was about to exit the room, a strange etching on the shower wall peeking from behind the curtain caught his eye. Pulling the sheet back, a collage of carved symbols and lettering revealed itself. “RA9” was written over and over, accompanied by various other strange symbols.

Making your way upstairs, you heard what sounded like shower curtain rings sliding. “What the hell...Connor?” Androids had no need for such facilities. As a precaution, you drew the firearm at your hip, slowly extending your hand towards the door. Just as the tips of your fingers brushed the knob, the door swung open, revealing a baffled looking Connor who eyed your tentative posture, noting the pistol aimed at his chest. “Agent? Is everything alright?” You released a breath you didn’t realize you’d been holding. “Jesus! What the hell are you doing in here?” Your eyes flicked downward towards the towel. “I-uh...the rain. I thought it best to dry off in order to preserve the crime scene for you.” You cocked an eyebrow at his wavering, less than matter-of-fact tone. “Ok...well, I’m even more soaked than you are.” You replaced the weapon in its holster, straightening yourself. You reached for the suspiciously dry towel. “NO.” You jerked back at the sudden outburst from the detective. Connor blinked, eyes wide and panic flooding his mind. “This one is...unclean. If you’re going to handle any evidence, I must insist you use a different one.” Was this normal behaviour for androids? You hadn’t much personal experience with them, but the models you had encountered always seemed so deadpan and calculating. 

Promptly switching gears, Connor attempted to draw your attention elsewhere. “I believe I’ve found something I failed to miss in our initial investigation.” He stepped back into the room nodding towards the shower. You cocked an eyebrow at the sudden shift in his tone, but followed him and his line of sight nonetheless, pulling back the curtain. Sure enough, you were greeted with a slew of strange writing and symbols etched into the tile wall. Stepping forward you lightly ran a hand over the markings, trying to make sense of them but you couldn't recall having seen anything like it before. “ What's RA9?” you asked, continuing to analyze the impressions beneath your fingers. “ I'm not sure. I ran a search through the database but it came up inconclusive.” You stepped back from the wall, brow furrowed. “ Well this wasn't done by human hands. This was carved straight into tile, and look how deep it is.” Looking downwards, you spotted the few broken tiles littering the bottom of the bathtub. Whoever did this clearly had some force behind them. You picked up one of the pieces, and noticed a strange substance on the edge. Reaching into a small pouch on the side of your belt, you produced a small pen-like instrument. Connor watched your actions curiously. You brought the tip of the device to meet with the substance on the tile and after a moment, the LED on its side lit up indicating a numeric code. “Blue Blood,” you mused, rising from your crouched position. “This is indeed an android’s handiwork. But why?” You cast Connor a sideways glance. “Are you sure you've never heard of RA9? It sounds an awful lot like a designation.” He shook his head slowly, processing the information. “I assure you I have not. This...perplexes me just as much as it does you.” You hummed, taking a step back from the scene and slowly panning your gaze across it, blinking twice when your motions ceased. The android next to you tilted his head to the side at this, clearly confused by your actions. You noticed his inquiring gaze in your peripheral, turning to him upon completing the ritual. “Before you ask, no, I’m not an android. That would only be too convenient” You tapped the top of your cheek bone with your index finger. “Micro cam lenses. Allows me to record a scene and take stills for evidence. They’re not the most comfortable to wear, but it beats carrying a camera around.” 

He locked onto your eyes, conducting a scan of the tech. Fascinating. He also couldn’t help but take notice of how appealing he found the (y/e/c) orbs, highlighted by the small, barely noticeable ring of the camera’s copper components. Only when you cleared your throat did he realize he had been staring. “Oh, my apologies. I was merely observing.” You raised an eyebrow, arms now folded. “The camera I mean.” he quickly added, realizing his mistake. The corners of your lips gave away a smirk. “If you say so, towel boy.” And with that you turned, returning to the hallway. Distracted by the turn of events, he had all but forgotten his plight, only now realizing he held the towel loosely at his side. Heat rushed to his face as he looked downward. It seemed his little “problem” had fixed itself, but when?

Your investigation lead you through the remainder of the house, nothing catching your eye apart from the already marked collection of evidence throughout. You finally ended up in the laundry room on the main floor, only poking your head in for a quick glance as you hardly anticipated much of a discovery. About to withdraw, however, a patch of disturbed flooring caught your attention on the far side of the small room. It was evident something was recently moved from the spot, and you observed the crate pushed off to the side as the culprit. It very well could be nothing, but in your experience, it was almost always something. Making your way to the area in question, you leaned down to examine the space. 

“Found something?” Connor's voice came from the doorway. Your fingers traced the floorboards, searching for any variation. And there it was. You paused as you fingers dipped into a slightly wider gap, a subtle rush of air meeting your digits. Ignoring his question, you worked your fingers into the space and tugged upwards. Bingo. The panel shifted and you were eventually able to work your hand under the boards, lifting the covering away. You placed it off to the side, standing up once more and looking down into the small, dark passage below. Connor joined you, his LED now glowing a steady yellow. How had he missed that? The air that rose from the newly revealed space smelled awful, dank and cloying. You could only assume this was an addition made after the house was built, surely this wasn't up to code. The detective caught sight of your evident disgust. “I can take it from here “, but as he crouched down, you shook your head. “There's no way in hell you'll fit. I'll go.” You shrugged off the damp leather jacket, placing it on top of the washing machine and grabbed the flashlight stored on a nearby shelf. Light flooded the space, revealing a collection of battered crates, empty jars, beer bottles, and no shortage of cobwebs. You sighed. “Can't be any worse than the sewers in Morocco…” a vivid memory creeped up of a stealth mission turned all kinds of TMNT nasty. Connor stepped aside and you lowered yourself down. You could stand, but not entirely upright. Advancing forward, you took in the mess around you, stopping at one of the crates missing a lid. Second rate Red Ice packets, lots if them. 

“Looks like your boy was a dealer!” you called up to your partner. “Lucky for him he's dead, or he'd be getting a hell of a charge.” You continued into the space, which went further back than it initially appeared. More Red Ice, jars, pipes. All useless evidence now. You were about to turn back when something shuffled to your right behind a pile of crates. You eyed the space, bringing the light around. And sure enough, it landed on a roughed up android, huddled against the dirt wall, watching you with wide, bewildered eyes. The light reflected off of something in its hand, which you soon realized was a rather large kitchen knife, stained with what could only be human blood. You froze. Shit. Not wanting to provoke the already terrified machine, you slowly raised your free hand, showing you were unarmed. The gun in your holster was tucked well out if its sight. “It's ok, I'm not going to hurt you.” You spoke low and calm, trying to sound as reassuring as possible. It wasn't having any of it though. The blade was suddenly thrust forwards, pointing menacingly at you from only an arm's length away. 

Connor caught a reading of your elevated heart rate, and knew something was wrong. If his suspicions were correct, he didn't want to risk bursting in. Then an idea struck him. The micro cam. During his observations earlier, he managed to catch the devices serial number. Using this to his advantage, he hacked into the lenses, now able to see from your perspective. And what he saw wasn't good. 

The android was shaking violently, extending the blade towards (y/n), it's LED flashing red like a warning. “Stay back!” It suddenly cut the silence. You kept your composure, hands remaining in its sights. “I am alive! I don't want to die. He didn't have to die, but he...he…” A fresh strain of sobs racked the android’s already trembling frame, and it lowered its head to its knees. This was your chance. You dropped the flashlight and lunged forward, grabbing its extended wrist with one hand, and the blade's handle with the other. The Android's head shot up in surprise, thrown by your sudden advance. It's grip only tightened on the blade however, and it lunged forwards, throwing you onto your back and practically knocking the wind from your lungs. 

“Y/n!” Connor drew his weapon and plunged into the gap. He took aim of the android's head, pausing only when you managed to speak. “Don't...shoot!” It's full weight on you, you struggled to keep the blade from plunging into your throat. You'd had your share of experience in hand-to-hand combat, but you'd never taken on a frenzied robot before. Unlike you, it could keep this up forever and simply wait for you to tire. So using all of your strength, you worked to maneuver the android's arm to the side, craning your head in the opposite direction before releasing your grip. The blade plunged into the earth, narrowly missing your jaw. Moving with the blade, the android's body shifted from your left side, allowing just enough space for you to quickly wiggle free. You spun on your knee and swinging your other leg around, delivered a blow to its head in the hopes of incapacitating it. It did lose its balance momentarily, granting you enough time to snatch the blade away, but it quickly regained its composure, and upon realizing it had lost its only means if defence, bolted. Connor braced himself, weapon at the ready, but you were quicker. Drawing your gun you pulled the trigger, driving a bullet clean through the android's leg. It collapsed at Connor's feet, all motion in the appendage ceasing. 

A groan emanated from the downed machine as it weakly attempted to bring itself on to its hands and knees, but the other android before it took charge, bringing a hand to the back of its head and forcing it back down. Connor reached behind him and produced a pair of handcuffs, clasping them around the assailant's hands behind its back. He looked over to you then as you replaced your gun into its holder, chest heaving and heart racing. You swiped at a smear of dirt under your eye, then looked up to meet Connor's gaze. You both remained wordless for a time, processing the events and collecting yourself. “I called it in, and notified the Lieutenant. He should be here shortly.” Connor finally chimed. You simply nodded, taking a deep breath.  
\--  
The two of you stood waiting in the living room, the cuffed Android seated on the couch, head hung low and silent. You leaned against the wall, head tilted back with your eyes shut. Connor was still processing what had happened. Your quick thinking was remarkable, to say the least. He looked over at you, hardly wanting to disturb your interlude, but he felt as though he should acknowledge your efforts. “That was quite impressive.” Your head moved from the wall, heavy eyes opening and focusing on him. “Hmm? Oh, thanks.” And with that the two of you fell back into silence until Hank arrived.  
\--  
The older detective walked through the door shortly after the brief exchange. “Holy shit...so the motherfucker was here after all.” He glanced over at the detained android, still mute on the couch. “Nice work Connor.” The android shifted where he stood. “Actually, Lieutenant, I'm afraid I can't take credit. Y/n is solely responsible for apprehending this deviant.“ Hank blinked, cocking an eyebrow in your direction. You gave a small 2 fingered salute. “Oh...well, good stuff.” And with that he took his leave back to his vehicle. Connor made his way to the other android, gently grasping his upper arm and helping him to his feet. “I'll be accompanying him back to the DPD with Hank.” You couldn't hold back a grin. “You sure you don't want me to give you a ride back?” He immediately tensed, eyes widening. “I...I appreciate the offer, but I really should remain with the suspect.” Without another word, he hastily lead the android to the door, hand fumbling momentarily on the door handle before stepping out into the rain. You chuckled, picking up your motorcycle helmet from the staircase and followed suit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Don't forget to bring a towel!"
> 
> Connor finds all of the attic deviants, you find the ones in the basement. Between the two of you, you've got shit covered.


	4. Cherry Blossoms and Coffee

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You and Connor begin to realize that although your blood may not be the same colour, you may have more in common than you had initially thought possible.
> 
> Connor has a favourite tree.

He was greeted with the melody of songbirds over head, the sound of rushing water fading in soon after. The digitized sunlight offered no actual warmth, but he could almost feel its radiance embracing his synthetic skin as he loaded into the fabricated oasis. Eyes drifting open, Connor took in the familiar space around him. As much as he longed to remain here and bask in the beauty of the simulated garden, the only business he had here was to report his findings and undergo routine examinations conducted by his handler. He sighed, knowing his visit would be brief. Making his way between the neatly arranged flowerbeds and shrubbery, he paused to admire his favourite Cherry Blossom tree all in bloom, standing tall as if keeping watch over the expanse of the sanctuary. His musing was short lived however when a voice greeted him from behind.

“Connor, it’s good to see you.” He turned around, offering his handler a polite nod. “Hello Amanda.” The woman smiled in return, her gaze wandering to the tree the android had just been appreciating. “She’s growing well, much quicker than the others. A fine specimen to be sure.” Connor wrinkled his brow slightly. “She?” He glanced up at the tree then back to Amanda. “How can you be sure what gender it is?” She chuckled lightly at his genuine confusion. “Truthfully, I'm not. But one could assume by the sheer elegance and grace with which she holds herself over the rest of this place; there is certainly a feminine beauty about her. Wouldn’t you say?” Connor was a little taken aback by the profound statement, and he blinked as he processed the observation. However, looking back at the tree once more, he couldn’t help but see it in a different light than before, and a small smile formed on his lips. Amanda hadn’t noticed as she wound her way through the garden plots, settling on a nearby bench. Pulling himself out of his reverie, he joined her. Down to business. 

“You handled the interrogation well. Deviants returned to CyberLife in working condition will allow for a more comprehensive examination.” She referenced the android he and y/n had taken into custody the day prior. Not allowing his pride to seep through, Connor simply nodded with a terse “Thank-you.” Amanda looked out across the pond, her expression taking on a more serious, and possibly even troubled visage. “It would appear Lieutenant Anderson was absent during the android’s apprehension. Who was it that assisted you at the scene?” He considered his response carefully. He and the Lieutenant had been prudently notified by Captain Fowler that your involvement with the IMF was strictly classified, the only people privy to that knowledge being Hank, Fowler, and himself. As far as everyone else was concerned, you were merely an out-of-state detective sent over to aid in the deviant case, owing to your specific set of skills.

“Detective y/l/n. She has been assigned to us by the LAPD to cooperate in our investigation.” Amanda hummed, returning again to her thoughts. “And what do you make of her so far?” Flustered by the question, he shifted in his seat, his LED betraying him with a flash of yellow. He hadn’t really expected her to pry for details. In all honesty, he still didn’t now all that much about you. True, it had only been a day and a half since your arrival, but he prided himself on the rapid rate at which he could acquire personal knowledge of others. You were very tight lipped though, ignoring half of his inquiries, and offering fiery glares and muttered annoyances to the other half. What he did know wasn’t of much use, aside from being able to offer you a fully dressed cup of coffee.

“She seems very capable, astute, and has an evident interest in the case. I believe she will prove useful.” He actually wasn’t so sure just how enthralled with the investigation you were, but he figured allowing Amanda to believe you intended to be fully compliant with their efforts couldn’t hurt. She nodded slowly at his response, turning back to face the android. “I find it...troubling that CyberLife was not notified of her involvement prior to her arrival.” She stood then, Connor following suit. “You are to monitor her movements and report any questionable activity. Am I clear?”

“Of course Amanda.” 

His reply may have sounded sincere, but he struggled to understand her suspicions. Shouldn’t she be pleased another body was on the case? She had made it very apparent that CyberLife wanted the deviant situation taken care of as soon as possible, and having y/n around could very well bring about an accelerated outcome.

Satisfied, Amanda took her leave, and finding himself alone once more, Connor took one last look up at the grand tree across the garden and his smile returned. He reluctantly closed his eyes, the world around him fading to black. 

\--

The alarm blared through your sleep induced haze, indicating 6 a.m. You groaned, slowly turning over in bed before trying and failing to find the switch multiple times. As the buzzing in your ears quickly sobered you up, you remembered the wonders of modern technology; “Shut up.” you grumbled, and the agonizing buzzer fell silent. You breathed a drowsy sigh of relief. 

Going through your newly established morning routine for the third day in a row, you felt an odd sense of giddiness at the idea of “going to work”. You knew the line of duty as a detective meant responding to calls at odd hours if the night from time to time, but it still beat skydiving off buildings before your morning cup of coffee. Your years at the IMF had relieved you of any sense of normality; there were no 9-5 work days, rather you were picked up and placed in various locations all over the country, and often the world whenever duty called, living out of hotels or temporary apartments scouted out by the organization. Every once in a while you'd hold up somewhere nice, like that Villa in Italy 2 years ago. 

You observed the near empty studio loft you currently called home, wandering as you brushed your teeth. It wasn't awful; high ceilings, exposed brick and sleek hardwood floors. Shame it had no furniture aside from an old lounger, a small TV, a single seat kitchen table which mostly served as your desk space, and a bed. You caught yourself envisioning the place after an intensive trip to Ikea, shaking your head at the notion. Your stay here was very temporary. With a sigh, you returned to the bathroom to finish making yourself look human for the day. God you wish you had a coffee pot here. 

\--

Connor had been surveying you throughout the day from his desk. He honestly wasn't sure if his observations were a programmed response to Amanda's orders, or if he was working to satisfy his own growing curiosity. He watched as you flipped through a small stack of case files, noting the way you gingerly licked your thumb to separate the pages. You maintained an air of refinement and poise despite your hard edge, qualities he found rather striking. Your movements were sure, but not quite calculated, your dealings diplomatic but not demanding, and your work ethic put nearly everyone else in the DPD to shame thus far. With the exception of himself of course. Not to mention the way you held your own 3 days ago with that deviant. You were a wonder to him and he couldn't help but desire to know more. These were dangerous thoughts however, and Connor knew it. Ever since he'd accompanied Hank on the Ortiz investigation, he'd felt...off. Questions and doubts scraped at the back of his mechanized mind, and it seemed the more he pushed them back, the harder they worked to claw their way out. He could always report to CyberLife as a defective model, they would replace him and that would be that. But he found himself not entirely fond of the idea. It would be a shame to be interrupted before cracking the case after all. 

All reports now complete and accounted for, boredom began settling in, and he found himself scanning the office space for an outlet. His sights fell upon you once more, and drawing in a cooling breath, he stood, setting out for your desk. 

“Hello agen--detective.” He caught himself before unwittingly letting your cover slip. It would take some time getting used to the fact that you were undercover and not an official detective. 

“Hey.” Your focus remained on the documents in front of you. In truth, paperwork really wasn’t your thing. As a field agent, your talents were best reserved for the real world, preferring a hands-on approach rather than shuffling through records. Unfortunately, you knew this was a crucial aspect of your cover, so you had put in extra time to teach yourself the art of filing reports, however gruelling.

“Do you require any assistance? I've already completed filing my reports for the day.” Tempting, but you were determined to free climb this mountain yourself. “No thank you Connor.” You bit down on the end of your pen, scanning a shotty segment of wording. 

Strike one. He straightened up slightly, directing his attention to your desk space. You'd left your iPod on and he made note of the current band on “Pause”. “You enjoy heavy metal music? Hank is rather fond of it as well, you could possibly use that to “break the ice” as they say.” He offered an encouraging smile. Connor had noticed the chilly air between you and the Lieutenant since day one, and there were no signs of it improving. If one of you was accessing the filing cabinets, the other would wait until they were clear of the area before going over. Reports were passed on without a word, and you both took to mumbling obscenities at one another under your breath. It would have been comical if Connor wasn't sandwiched in the middle. He was determined to make you two bury the hatchet, lest his functions be diminished to forever passing angry notes between the two of you.

You sighed, a recurring tick of yours Connor noticed, and released the pen from your teeth, tapping it lightly on your desk and glancing up at the android. “What's eating you detective?” He'd discovered since Hank's use of the phrase that it was merely a figure of speech, and he now prided himself on grasping its meaning. 

“Nothing in particular.” he began, “I just find myself understimulated having completed all of my current assigned tasks for the day.” You smirked at his choice if wording.

“You're bored?” He paused, considering the idea. “Yes, I suppose I am...bored.” You nodded, leaning back in your chair to stretch. “Well, I haven't taken my lunch yet, so I guess you can tag along. But ONLY if you keep the anecdotes and “fun facts” to a minimum. Like...one. You get one fact per day.” Connor beamed, agreeing to your terms. “Very well, but you'll be missing out on some riveting true facts about the--” 

“Connor... don't make me call over Reed.”

\-- 

You held the warm paper cup between both hands, relishing the caffeinated beverage Connor had insisted on buying you. You didn't make much of an argument; CyberLife made more than enough profit off their robots to buy one lowly detective investigating THEIR case a much needed coffee. The fast approaching Winter months announced their arrival on the crisp air, and Connor couldn't help but admire the light rouge that now dusted your cheeks and nose as a result. He'd offered to sit inside the cafe longer, but you'd expressed your need to get out for a bit. “I'm not used to being chained to a desk all day.” you had said. 

The two of you sat quietly on a bench overlooking the Ambassador bridge while you worked on your beverage. You eyed the wordless Android next to you. He sat calmly, looking out across the water with what you concluded was a rather thoughtful disposition. You wondered what thoughts whirled amongst those gears and gadgets. He felt your gaze, turning to face you with a slight tilt of his head, LED flashing yellow for a split second. You didn't know why, but you felt your face grow warm then as his eyes met yours. He was just a machine, and yet he looked so...human. And he wasn't exactly unattractive either. Every freckle that peppered his otherwise flawless complexion seemed meticulously placed, only adding to his enticing bearing.

“What's eating you agent-- I mean, detective. Sorry.” He hung his head slightly, his attempt at humor shot out of the sky by his blunder. Swing and a miss. You chuckled, acknowledging his efforts. “Look, just call me y/n. It'll save us both the headache moving forward.” He nodded. “Got it.” You took a sip of your coffee, looking back out over the river. “And nothing is “eating me”. Just thinking is all.” He cocked an eyebrow. “Oh? About what?” You thought a moment before simply shaking your head. “Nothing in particular.” Another sip of coffee. Connor clasped his hands in his lap, leaning forward somewhat as his LED resuming a faint yellow glow. “You don't talk much, do you?” he finally asked. That wasn't an entirely accurate observation. You could be quite vocal when you wanted to be, never afraid to speak up when discussing cases, or just in general around the office. But when the focus shifted to you specifically, you appeared to close yourself off.

Your brows knitted as you observed the ground, annoyance bubbling at the accusation. “And what is it you’d like me to say exactly? No offence, but I’m hardly going to spill my life story to the “Android sent by CyberLife”. You know my association with the IMF is highly classified, as is any and all information I possess.” You paused, tilting your head to face Connor. “Captain Fowler was only supposed to notify Lieutenant Anderson of my involvement, but I suppose he couldn’t help having you at his heels when the bomb dropped.”

He was thrown by your words, hurt flashing across his face. As soon as the words left your mouth, you regretted them. Looking into your coffee, you chewed the inside of your cheek as a heavy silence fell.

Swallowing your pride, you shook your head, mentally kicking yourself for the outburst. “Look, I’m...I’m sorry. I don’t mean to be an asshole. It’s just...my whole life revolves around the IMF. There really isn’t much else to tell.” His aura softened at the indisputable pain in your words. He recalled a moment in the Zen Garden: “You seem...lost Connor, lost and perturbed.” Amanda had apathetically remarked when he failed to comply with his instructions. In truth, he seemed to be losing more and more of himself every day. And looking at you now, he suddenly felt as though he was looking into a mirror. Could it be possible you were just as lost and alone as he was beginning to feel? You may not have been an android, but you seemed bound to your duties in a similar practice to that of he and his own limiting source code.

“Coffee.” You cast him a sideways glance. “Huh?”

“You enjoy coffee, a double double to be exact. It’s a start.” He offered you a small smile, which you naturally found yourself returning. His words were few, but you couldn’t help the fleeting, foreign notion of belonging, and a sense of calm as the kindness in Connor’s tone reached out to you. Maybe there was hope for you after all, and you found solace in the idea as you took another sip of your coffee.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, from here on out, I'm hoping to update this a couple times a week. Work has been keeping me painfully busy as of late, so I can't really put up a set schedule yet (not sure if I ever will to be honest...but that remains to be seen). Regardless, there will for sure be at LEAST 1 new chapter each week. 
> 
> On a totally random side note, I'm Canadian and the term "double-double" is practically a national treasure amongst our vocabulary. My apologies if you all prefer your coffee differently, eh.


	5. Perturbation & Pyro

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Our reader's mission becomes a little more complicated. Connor is a good coffee boi. Blue blood doesn't go in your mouth. 
> 
> CHAPTER SUMMARY

Despite what turned out to be a rather pleasant lunch outing with your partner, the day still managed to take its toll. The paperwork was seemingly endless, even when distributed between the three of you, and your aching hands bore witness to the excessive typing. You were beginning to understand why so many people invested in CyberLife’s little helpers. 

Home at last, you cut the motorcycle’s engine, kicking out the stand and slipping off your helmet. Clasping the head gear to your belt, you made your way around the front of the apartment building, reveling in the thought of being one step closer to a bubble bath. Just as you began to relax, the fantasy was quickly interrupted by a sudden “Excuse me ma'am?”, halting your movements. Grumbling, you turned around only to be greeted by a man in a light blue button up dress shirt and khakis, a book nestled under his right arm and a canvas bag slung over his left. Ah shit.

“Good evening ma’am. I was wondering if you could spare a moment to hear about our Lord and Saviour…” You were quick to interject. “ Hey man, I just got off work. I’m tired, kinda grumpy, and the only thing I want to hear right now is a bath running and a bottle of wine emptying. And Netflix.” He nodded, pursing his lips. You half expected him to rebuke you with some religious tirade, but he instead reached into the bag. You eyed him suspiciously, body instinctively pricking with defensive anticipation. A small unmarked box emerged, and he offered you the strange little package. “I understand. If you change your mind though, you may find this helpful. It’s never too late to hear the good news.” His broad smile never faltered, but a sense of knowing seemed to pass between the two of you then. Reaching out, you hesitantly took the gift. “Thanks…”

“Have a good evening ma’am, and God bless.” With a nod, he turned on his heel and disappeared across the street.

\--

An admirer perhaps? You snorted at the ridiculous notion. Settled at your kitchen table/desk hybrid, you produced a small pocket knife from your belt, flicking it open and sliding it across the package’s tape. 

“Well, Merry-fucking-Christmas.” Pulling back the cardboard flaps, a small circular disk, no larger than the palm of your hand lay neatly tucked within the packing peanuts. You immediately recognised it as one of the IMF’s holographic recorders. Pulling it out, you set it on the table. You hadn’t been expecting to hear from them until your mission was complete, and couldn’t help the sense of dread that now knotted within your stomach. There was an impression on the side of the device, and upon meeting it with your left thumb, a small prick shot through the digit and you winced. Couldn’t they use an optical scanner or some shit? With your palm still hovering over the surface of the disk, a laser scanner illuminated the bottom of your hand, confirming the end of the 2-step security check with a ping. Pulling away and bringing the bloody finger to your mouth, you watched as the disk sprang to life, a green glowing ring now evident around its circumference.

IDENTITY CONFIRMED.  
AGENT 57 - Y/L/N, Y/N

GREETINGS AGENT

A holographic image bearing your ID tag hovered above the device momentarily before dissolving. You sat back, allowing the machine to continue. The modulated AI was soon replaced with the disembodied voice of none other than the organization’s director himself.

“Agent 57, we have received intel that one of our informants has been...compromised. The initial plan, wherein granting you access to the CyberLife tower Sunday at 2200 hours, is no longer a go.” 

The ID tag of the informant in question faded into view, “DECEASED” plastered in red across the image, followed by a newspaper article with the headline “Former member of CyberLife security found dead at scene of crash”. Always the car crash story, but you knew better. Leaning forward, you brought your crossed arms to rest on the table, the pit in your stomach growing. Compromised? How? He continued.

“Unfortunately, he was our primary connection to CyberLife’s security, so naturally this complicates things. The others have been ordered to lay low until this blows over. You are to remain working the deviant cases with the DPD until further instruction. Hopefully they can still shine some light on our cause.”

The recording paused, evident stress radiating through the static. “If you can find another way to infiltrate the tower without the aid of the organization, do it. However, if you are captured or compromised in any way, we will be forced to disavow any knowledge of your actions. We’re running out of time, Y/n. Those assets are due to ship within 2 weeks, they cannot be allowed to leave the facility. We’re counting on you.”

The recording ended, the static cutting out. 

THIS RECORDING WILL SELF DESTRUCT IN 10 SECONDS

“Good news my ass.” This was bad. How could he have been so careless? And more importantly, did he talk...Suddenly feeling a headache coming on, you rubbed your eyes with your thumb and index finger, releasing a deep sigh. You needed something stronger than wine. 

\--

The following morning was nothing short of hellish. Between the 2 hours of sleep, mounding reports, a persistent headache, and a lack of physical stimulation, you found yourself lagging more than usual. Connor hadn’t failed to notice your symptoms, although no special CyberLife tech was necessary to read your clear agitation. You frequently pressed your index fingers to your temples, once using your middle finger as Gavin walked by remarking “Jesus, even when you look like shit I’d still hold you up in the interrogation room.” Although Connor didn’t fully grasp the implication, he bristled at the way Gavin spoke to you, the way he thoroughly assessed you up and down as if you were another prospect android in a store window. The want was undeniable in his gaze, and the android had the sudden urge to...no, this was a human, and another detective no less. He shook his head, clearing it of the homicidal notion. Besides, despite all of Gavin’s advances, he was making no headway with you. Especially today. 

Once the coast was clear, Connor rose from his chair and made his way to the break room. He anticipated the cold conditions he would more than likely be greeted with once arriving at your station, so he intended to come prepared. 

While he patiently waited for the coffee machine to finish preparing the beverage, he turned his head to look out the glass divider into the main office space. His brow furrowed in confusion when he failed to see your form at first glance, but cranning his head to one side, he spotted you. You were still at your desk, but you were now hidden behind the pile of documents (which he noted appeared even larger than when he’d walked by just moments ago), forehead resting on your crossed forearms atop the desk. He felt a slight tug at his Thirium pump, which was rather odd.

The humming of the machine came to a stop, redirecting his attention and he retrieved the steaming mug. You still hadn’t moved by the time he reached your work space, and he almost felt as though he should leave you be. Captain Fowler would undoubtedly have words for you if he caught you in such a state however, so he was left with no choice.

He gently placed the mug within your reach on the desk, clearing his throat to get your attention. You stirred, rolling your head to one side with a groan. “Is 5 more minutes too much to ask? Wait...oh fuck…” Seeing the papers scattered across the surface and the DPD symbol on the monitor’s desktop, you found yourself rudely thrust back into reality. Shooting up, you ran a hand through your hair before haphazardly shuffling through the papers in front of you, trying to figure out where the hell you left off. And then you spotted the coffee to your left. You stopped, looking at it confused, then up to Connor. He smiled. “I thought this might help with your present condition.” As childish as it was, you couldn’t help the slight flutter in your heart. “Thank you Connor...but aren’t you supposed to be over with Hank?”

“Where Lieutenant Anderson is my preeminent partner, recent events dictate that you are technically my partner also. And I’m concerned that...” He paused, struggling to find the right words. “-that in a state of extreme exhaustion, you become...less efficient. I would strongly advise you allot more time for sleep outside of work in the future.” Of course his fall back would be a lecture.

You pursed your lips, slowly turning your chair back to face the desk. “Right...thanks dad.” Connor simply stood there, all at once feeling foolish and at a loss of what to say. Just as he was about to speak, a gruff voice commanded his attention instead. “Fuck sake Connor, what the hell are you doing?!” The stunned android looked between you and Hank before he was able to formulate a reply. “Uh...sorry Lieutenant, coming!” Hank just shook his head as the android promptly made his way over. The Lieutenant couldn’t help sparing you a glance as you rubbed your eye, finally resuming your work.

“What’s her problem? Can’t hold her liquor?” Connor, now perched on the edge of Hank’s desk, looked back over to you briefly. “My scans didn’t indicate any excessive amounts of alcohol in her system. But her reduced focus, high stress levels, and fatigue would suggest she’s suffering from a lack of sleep.” Hank huffed. “Huh, I guess they’re not super human after all.”

\--

A call came in later that day regarding another android attack, and you were all too happy to finally be doing something other than paper work. Your excitement was quickly squashed upon arriving at the scene however. The android in question had already been deactivated, as was quite evident by the charred, mangled heap in the backyard. Looking over the late androids deformed remains, you were disturbed by what you saw. Aside from the few intact wires jutting out, there was virtually no anatomical difference to that of a human burn victim, it's synthetic skin still engaged. As you scanned and photographed the husk with your micro cam, you could overhead Hank speaking with the responding officer. 

“So it was the neighbor that called in? And they say they heard a disturbance next door, shouting, shit breaking. Then both humans and android bring the party outside, the guy and his buddies act in self defence and the android stumbles back into the fire pit.” He observed the report, scoffing. “What a load of horse shit.” He returned the papers to the officer, making his way over to you and the body. Neither one of you said anything for a moment as he took in the gruesome sight, scratching the back of his neck. You looked over to the collection of empty beer bottles and red ice packets. 

“All three guys drunk, high, and bored. It didn't stand a chance.” Hank merely hummed in response to your observation. 

“When did we become so shitty…”

He glanced over at you, a little surprised you had engaged him again, quickly returning his gaze to the body. There was a pause. ”Humans have always been shitty...to each other, to themselves, to the planet. Now we just have one more outlet: androids.”

When you didn't respond, he looked your way again, talking in your solemn disposition. Very hesitantly, he reached out and placed a hand on your shoulder, patting it once before taking his leave.

Collecting yourself, you tore from your thoughts, looking out across the rest of the scene. As you did so, you spotted Connor crouched over a pool of blue blood on the floor, and just as you begin making your way over, he dipped his index and middle finger into the substance, bringing them to meet his tongue.

“What the fu--” You stopped dead, unable to process what you were witnessing. Connor turned, hearing the choked words. Upon realizing who it was, he shot up, straightening himself. For the first time, he felt... embarrassed by his actions? 

“I-uh…I can analyze substances in real time?” He hadn't meant for it to come out as a question, as it was indeed a fact. But he was so flustered by your mortified gaze that his processes seemed to shut down, unsure how to react. Breaking your state of shock, you reached into the small pouch on the back of your belt, and produced the small pen-like device from the other day.

He grinned sheepishly, “Right…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *sings* "Don't you put it in your mouth!"
> 
> The next chapter is basically finished, and I WAS going to tag it onto this one. But it would have been way too long I think. I kind of like cutting chapters after covering a max. of 3 different scenarios, it seems to read more comfortably. Idk, feel free to let me know if you even have a preference.
> 
> Just as a forward, next chapter is NSFW. You have been warned.


	6. Surveillance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> NSFW
> 
> Wine, bubble baths, and some much needed personal time.
> 
> Enjoy kids.

The Merlot greeted you like an old friend, the pleasant bite stroking your throat on the way down. You sunk into the warm bath, a contented groan reverberating in your chest as the lavender and eucalyptus melted your stress away. This was exactly what you needed after today. You didn’t normally make time for baths, typically reverting to a quick shower when necessary so you could return to focus on the task at hand. Actually, now that you thought about it, you very rarely made any sort of time for yourself. Your time, energy, and mental state all reflected the constitution of whatever mission you were thrown into, and you knew little else. But Connor had insisted that your body needed to properly regenerate in order to operate at peak efficiency, and who were you to argue? You reflected on how much of a fuss he made following this afternoon’s investigation:

~

You sat in the back seat of the old car, looking out at the lightly falling snow whipping past your window as Hank cheuffeured the three of you back to the DPD. You swore you could make out the faint scent of alcohol infused with the somewhat stuffy climate of the vehicle’s interior, but you said nothing. Hank had been courteous enough to offer you a ride to the scene after noticing the change in the weather, knowing you currently only had your motorcycle. You smiled to yourself, recalling his reasoning: 

“I already have Commander Data and his merry band of factoids following me around. I don’t need fucking Han Solo.” He paused. “You know...after the whole frozen in carbon thing.” You just rolled your eyes. Nerd. 

Unbeknownst to you, Connor had conducted another scan of your vitals from the passenger seat. Rigid muscles, signs of a persisting tension headache, decreased body temperature, and clear fatigue. This simply would not do. 

“Lieutenant…” The man cut him off. “Would you quit it with the “Lieutenant” garbage already? I’m starting to feel like I’m actually liable for shit. And I swear to god, if you start calling me Mr. Anderson…”

Connor slowly nodded, storing the new information. “Got it. Hank?

His hands visibly tightened on the wheel, eye twitching. “Yes…?”

“May I request a detour to the drug store?”

“No, no you may not.”

The android’s LED spun yellow as he recalculated his approach.

“It’s not a personal request, it’s for y/n.” You lifted your chin from its resting place on your knuckles against the window (where you’d been stifling a laugh throughout the entirety of the comparative father/son exchange), your amused expression dropping to one of confusion. Hank looked over his shoulder, eying you. “She looks fine to me. Nothing a drink and some shut eye can’t fix”. Connor wasn’t convinced though. “You’re aware that I’m able to diagnose issues internally are you not? And I would advise against using alcohol as a means of relief.”

Hank mocked the admonishing remark with another eye roll.

You sat quietly while the two men debated your fate, suddenly feeling like a child in the back of their parents’ car, too exhausted to interject. Their bickering was an entertaining distracting anyways.

When Hank fell silent, Connor sat back in his seat, releasing what sounded like a frustrated sigh. His eyes flicked up to meet your form in the rear view mirror, noticing how you now rested your head against the car door, eyes closed. His gaze softened, a quiet determination swelling within him. He turned back to his partner.

“Hank, please…”

The man gave him a sidelong glance, also inspecting your situation in the mirror before grumbling. “Fine...but make it quick.” The android nodded in appreciation as they pulled into the next lot. You stirred as the vehicle came to a full stop, the engine switching off. Connor undid his seatbelt and opened his door.

“I mean it, no fucking around in there. I’ve got shit to do.” 

He seriously doubted that, but he reassured his partner it would be a short trip. Making his way around to your door, he waited for you to sit up before opening it. “Would you mind accompanying me? It would make selecting something a lot easier.” He looked over at Hank. “And it would speed up the process.” You weren’t entirely sure what he meant, but rolling your shoulders in a half stretch you nodded, unbuckling yourself.

The store was mostly empty, the light flurry of snow most likely scaring people into staying home for the evening. Connor scanned the aisle signs, turning down one marked with “BATH ACCESSORIES”. You followed, observing the shelves as you went. He stopped in front of a shelf lined with a variety of bubble baths, bath oils and salts, scanning its contents.

“Connor, this is all very unnecessary. Hank’s right, I just need to get a full night’s sleep.”

Not breaking focus on the products in front of him, he shook his head. “Where sleep is crucial, it won’t address the other issues your body is displaying.” Mild embarrassment washed over you then. Just how thorough were these scans of his?

“Do you have a preferred scent?” You shook from your discomposure, joining him in his analysis. “Um...Lavender I guess?” You picked up a container of bubble bath, turning it over in your hands. He nodded in approval, bending down to retrieve a bag of eucalyptus scented epsom salts as well. “This will help ease the tension in your muscles.” Standing back up, he turned to you reaching for the bottle in your hands, but you stretched your arm behind you, away from his grasp. “Oh no you don’t, you already bought me coffee. And I don’t care to feel obligated to return the favour.” You were teasing of course, but you did intend to buy the products with your own funds. And by your own funds you meant on the IMF’s dime.

Connor blinked, hand still outstretched. Then he straightened with a slight huff. “Very well, if you insist.” You flashed him a look of triumph as he moved around you, still holding the bag of bath salts. Just as you made to compose yourself and follow him to the check out, he abruptly turned and snatched the bottle out of your hand, carrying on his way to the storefront without a word.

“Motherfu…”

He turned momentarily to catch your bewildered expression, an almost smug grin playing upon his features before he continued to the counter. He couldn’t help but be utterly satisfied with himself in that moment.

~

You chuckled as you replayed the scene in your head, still dumbfounded that he’d juked you so. And that look...you had no idea he could be such a pompous bastard. Your thoughts wandered...what else was he capable of? You were familiar with *Asimov’s Laws of robotics, so were aware of the limitations he surely had. And yet, he exuded a great many human characteristics. Sure, they could very well be racked up to his specific model’s programming, emulating a more human response in order to relate and integrate more appropriately with his colleagues. But the way he looked at you, the way his otherwise perfect vocabulary slipped, and his odd ticks were all too uncanny.

Something roused within you, a sudden rush of need, desire. How long had it been exactly? Your line of work didn’t exactly allow many opportunities to engage in self-indulgence, your last hook up being nearly 2 years ago now. Christ you were thirsty. You took another sip of wine. 

You knew of the various android sex clubs throughout the country, your friend Kim back home recalling in her unabashed way the experiences she had indulged in. What did an android’s synthetic skin feel like you wondered? What did his skin feel like...you tried to vividly recall the few times your hands had brushed over passing along reports, or when he would bring you coffee. You smiled. You weren’t stupid, you noticed his attentiveness with you, the extra care he took when addressing you and the kindness in his voice.

Your free hand began to roam down the front of your body, brushing over your hip and dipping to your apex. Closing your eyes, you leaned your head back against the tile wall, breathing in deeply the aroma of the essential oils saturating the air. Connor’s face came into view, and the dull ache in your core began to swell. Why did he have to be so god damn attractive. Your fingers caressed the sensitive nub, slipping into your now thoroughly coated entrance. Oh...this wouldn’t do. You opened your eyes, realising how heavy your breathing had become. As much as you were enjoying your bath, it was time to move things into the bedroom.

\--

Connor had accompanied Hank home that evening to complete some reports simultaneously. He had tried insisting they utilize the DPD’s facilities, but his partner expressed his distaste for the idea of staying late most indiscreetly:

“Connor, the only way you could ever possibly make me stay in this fucking place any longer is if you glued my ass to this chair.” The android considered the idea for a moment. Could he do that?

They had concluded their work an hour or so ago now, Hank retreating to his room with a bottle of whisky despite Connor’s attempts to dissuade him. He sat on the couch, scanning through his third book, a biography on a band called “Metallica.” Boredom took hold again. Although it was hardly necessary, he could always power down until morning to pass the time. Leaning into the couch cushions, he reflected on the day’s proceedings instead. The thought of you came up and he smiled, but it quickly faltered upon remembering the condition you’d been in all day. He wondered if you had taken his advice and utilized the bath products he’d bought you. What sort of condition were you in now? Were you actually catching up on sleep? Curiosity nagged at him, and in contempt of his processes, an idea struck him. Your micro cam lenses. It would only be for a moment, it was likely you had removed them for the night anyways. Convincing himself this was for your own good (and his own peace of mind), he scanned for the device’s serial number in his database. 

Bingo.

His vision flickered as his sensors fine tuned the connection. Once the link was established, he froze...what was he looking at exactly? Your breathing appeared ragged, strained, eyes focused on the ceiling. His first reaction was panic, thinking you were in some form of distress and he made to call emergency services. Then he heard it. A breathy moan escaped you, falling hot and heavy on his audio processors. Oh no…what had he gotten himself into? He knew this was highly invasive and should have cut the connection right then and there. But against his better judgement, he found he couldn’t. You moaned again, eyes closing momentarily before opening, now gazing down at your exposed form on the bed.

Oh god…

He felt that strange stir in his stomach, his mind glazing over and a pulse driving down into his groin. No no no. This could not be happening. But it was, and he found himself wanting more. 

He watched as your hands trailed across your body, one softly gripping one of your breasts, giving it a squeeze, the other disappearing from view between your legs. You stroked yourself slowly, hips meeting your hands movements ever so slightly. The strain in his pants was becoming too much as his now impossibly hard member practically begged for release. He bit the inside of his cheek, his internal cooling kicking into overdrive.

Unable to contain himself any longer, he reached down, unbuttoning his pants and pulling his member free of its restraints. He could hardly believe how sensitive it was. This was the first time he’d actually paid it any mind. Well, aside from his predicament the other day when he’d researched methods on how to alleviate the bulge. Recalling his investigation, he gripped the synthetic cock with his right hand, stroking upwards. A shiver racked his frame, his cool air intake immediately enlivening. Continuing at a slow pace he threw his head backwards on the couch, returning his focus to you. 

You had paused your actions, now sifting through a small black bag. Were you finished? He couldn’t help a pang of disappointment. Then you pulled out a small metallic egg-like device. You ran your thumb over the base of it and the device whirred to life, vibrating between your fingers.

Connor was immediately reengaged. This was getting interesting.

You lay back on the bed, bringing the device to meet your clit, and upon contact, a long, mewling moan left your throat. His pace quickened as he watched on, his member involuntarily twitching in his hands. A groan pried behind his teeth, but he bit it back, not wanting to wake Hank.

You brought your other hand to dip below the vibrator, sliding what appeared to be 3 fingers into your core. How he wished he could see for himself, what a sight that must be. You continued like this for a few minutes, his focus never breaking from the exquisit scene unravelling before him. And then you spoke. He didn’t quite catch it the first time, but the second time it was unmistakable.

“C-Connor…”

He halted his movements. What? You said it again, and he noticed your breathing was becoming more erratic. Were you….were you really thinking about him? His engorged cock twitched again, heat flooding his body and he couldn’t hold back a low groan, throwing caution to the wind. He wanted nothing more than to be there with you, hovering over you, thrusting himself inside you. He pumped himself harder, a knot beginning to swell in the pit of his groin. Whatever was happening felt amazing. 

Your legs were shaking now, moans laced with his name flowing freely from you, and he recognized this as you nearing climax. He was close too, pleasure flooding upwards from his member, through his hips, and cascading across his body. And without warning, it all came to a head, his hips jerking upwards from the couch as a stream of creamy liquid ejaculated from his pulsating member.

He fell into the couch, head falling back, his body completely spent. Which until now he didn’t think possible. Unable to focus any of his processes, the feed cut out, and he found himself staring up at Hank’s living room ceiling. Shit, Hank. Mustering what little strength he had left, he pulled himself forward, glancing back at the hallway behind him. The lights were still off, thank god. He looked down at the floor in front of him, eyes widening in shock as he spotted the obvious mess he’d made right in the middle of the carpet. 

He intended to clean it up as soon as he was fully operational, but for now, he lay back once more to recharge. Despite his ecstasy, he couldn’t help but feel a pang of guilt. He had literally spied on you during an extremely private moment. Facing you tomorrow was going to be….cumbersome. 

 

What had he done...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ever learning, Connor's new word of the day: "voyeurism"
> 
> OOPS
> 
>  
> 
> *For anyone who's curious: Asimov's Laws of Robotics
> 
> First Law - A robot may not injure a human being or, through inaction, allow a human being to come to harm.  
> Second Law - A robot must obey the orders given it by human beings except where such orders would conflict with the First Law.  
> Third Law - A robot must protect its own existence as long as such protection does not conflict with the First or Second Laws.


	7. Rooftops, Trains, and Automobiles

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Your investigation reaches new heights.

You woke to the soothing scent of lavender still lingering in the air, enticing you to remain beneath the comfort of your duvet a little longer. Despite the temptation however, you noticed the absence of debilitating exhaustion from the day prior, replaced instead with a sense of invigorated elation. Glancing over at the clock, you were surprised to discover it was only 5:30 a.m. Feeling energized regardless, you decided to get a jump on the day and take advantage of the DPD’s training facilities before you potentially planted your rear end into a chair for the day. You made a mental note to thank Connor for lending his brilliant mind to your cause last night. Of course you would leave out the part where you tagged on your own twist on the recovery process.

\--

“Hank?” Connor lightly rapped the bedroom door. No answer. He was well aware of his partner’s usual tardiness, typically arriving at the station between 11:30am and 1:00 pm. But he wasn’t about to be late for work himself due to Hank’s lethargy. He raised his voice slightly, knocking again. 

“Lieutenant?”

A muffled groan resonated from within the room, but nothing more. Growing impatient, the android huffed, proceeding to swing the door open and enter the room. Privacy didn’t appear to be one of his strengths lately. The groggy man still nestled beneath his sheets was immediately responsive to the unwelcome guest. 

“Connor what the fuck?! Get the hell out of my room!”

“Sorry, but we need to be at the DPD in 45...42 minutes. Given the amount of time it will take for you to get changed, wash up, have breakfast, and drive to our destination, I estimate…”

“You can take your estimate and shove it. Can’t you just…call a cab or something?” Hank peeked at the clock sitting on the nightstand, the red numbers obnoxiously glaring 8:18am. back at him.

Connor stood awkwardly at the foot of the bed, staring down the disheveled man before him like a scolding mother.

“It would be irresponsible of me to leave without you.” When Hank still refused to budge, he walked over to the window, throwing the curtains open, to which he was met with more groaning and a slew of unsavoury vocabulary. Hearing the commotion, Sumo bounded into the room, leaping onto the bed and proceeded to shower his owner with slobbery affection. “No! Bad dog! You’re supposed to attack HIM not me!” He shoved the massive bundle of energy off him, wiping his thoroughly drenched face. Completely unperturbed, the dog targeted Connor next, hopping off the bed and jumping up to place his huge paws on the android’s chest, craning to show him the same appreciation as his owner. Caught off guard by the sudden brute force, the android stumbled backwards, his back colliding with the wall with a thump. Thankfully, his defensive protocol didn’t kick in, knowing the dog meant no harm and he merely chuckled, patting the spirited pup’s head.

Hank stirred in the background, dragging himself out of bed and over to the closet.

“As touching as this is, could you two, you know...get the fuck out? Now.”

As if on command, Sumo hopped down and trotted towards the door, no doubt wanting his own breakfast. 

“Of course. You have 10 minutes. C’mon Sumo, let’s get you some food.” He shushed the dog out as he left Hank to change, catching wind of the man’s foreseen grumbling as he did so.

\--

As the two detectives walked up the steps of the DPD, Connor did his best to quell the persistent knot that had formed in his stomach on the drive over. In his mission to get to Hank to work on time, he’d nearly forgotten his dread over having to face you. He swallowed as they passed through the front doors. Once inside, he straightened his tie and rolled his shoulders, which elicited a callous glance from Hank. 

“Something I should know?” The still bleary eyed detective gestured lazily at his own drab wardrobe, having simply thrown on the first thing he came in contract with in his closet.

Connor kept his own gaze ahead. “No, I just...want to maintain a presentable bearing while on duty. That’s all.”

“Right...I’m sure Fowler will really appreciate that. He may even credit you with a gold star and a kiss on the cheek.” Pleased with his little quip, Hank chuckled to himself, leaving the android’s side to plop himself at his desk. 

Ignoring the remark, Connor scanned the nearly empty office space, staff still trickling in at this hour. You were nowhere in sight. He sighed, temporary relief washing over him. His partner's fatigue still evident, he made his way to the break room to fix him a coffee.

While he waited for the machine to finish, his audio processors pricked, indicating uncharacteristic movement on the basement level. He wasn't aware of any interrogations presently being conducted, and the lab was silent for the most part. His ever present curiosity got the best of him and he abandoned the beverage to investigate.

Descending the stairs, the sound of what appeared to be a surface being struck became more evident. Reaching the long hallway lined with meeting and interrogation rooms, he walked along, the sound eventually bringing him to the gym. And he stopped, eyes landing on your figure. You were laying into a punching bag as though it had stollen your wallet and insulted your mother, energy clearly having been restored to your being since yesterday. 

The knot in his stomach returned tenfold, and once again he found himself unable to will his thought process and body away. He had to admit, you were clearly skilled in combat, each blow driving a force one would not expect upon first observing your semblance. Speaking of which, his gaze began to wander, taking in the outfit which perfectly hugged your curves, clearly outlining the technique behind your movements. Just as he began to feel his mind slip, the abrupt silence brought him back down. 

You stilled the swinging of the punching bag with one hand, the other wiping the sweat from your brow. Undoing your gloves, you crossed the room to gather up a towel and a water bottle. Upon straightening from the bench, you noticed a figure in the window, your eyes narrowing as you tried to make out who it was. 

“Connor?”

He stiffened. Oh no. He hadn’t intended on lingering long enough to be noticed. Before he could rush off, you were already walking over, tossing the towel to rest over your shoulder as the glass door slid open. 

“Well good morning. I wasn't aware androids needed to pump iron.” You smiled, completely unaware of the insinuation you had made, however subtle. His hand slipped into his pocket, fumbling for the coin it contained in a feeble attempt to calm his systems. 

“Good morning y/n...Detective. Detective y/l/n…” He swallowed.

Your brow furrowed momentarily at the sputtered mess of a greeting, noting the change in hue on his LED. “Is….everything alright?”

“Yes, of course. Why wouldn't it be?” The pocketed coin in between his fingers faltered. 

Hardly convinced but not wanting to overstep, you let it be. “No reason.” You smiled again, hoping to lighten the mood. “Hey, I just wanted to thank you for last night.”

Connor thought his thirium pump was about to burst free of his chest cavity, panicked static ringing loudly in his audio processors. Had you somehow found out about his intrusion?

“The...bath salts and bubble bath? They helped a lot,” you offered slowly when he simply stood there staring at you.

Shoulders dropping, he released a short burst of air from his nostrils, sheer relief phantom punching him in the gut. 

“O-of course. I'm glad. Good.” His curt answer was hardly what you expected to be met with, and you frowned. “Connor, are you sure you're -”

“Y/n, can we talk?” he suddenly blurted out. You jerked back in surprise, caught off guard by the outburst. 

“Ok...sure. Can you give me 10 though? I really need a shower.” He nodded, watching as you reentered the gym. You glanced back at him over your shoulder with a quizzical look before disappearing into the showers. He leaned against the wall, head falling back to meet the surface with a thud. He HAD to tell you about last night. This feeling that was eating away at him...guilt? Regret? Self loathing? Whatever it was, it was all too much. There was no way he'd get any work finished today until this was cleared up. 

Precisely 10 minutes later you reappeared, now changed into your jeans, boots, a form fitting turtleneck, and holster and gun strapped around your thigh. All of this hardly registered with Connor though as a flashback from your state of undress taunted him. His jaw clenched as he willed the provocative sight away.

“Sorry to keep you waiting.” You sauntered towards him. “So...shoot.” Stopping just short of the android you crossed your arms, eagerly awaiting to hear whatever it was he could possibly need to discuss so urgently. 

Words seemed to elude him as he struggled to clear the fog in his head. Just as he was about to speak, his gaze flicked past you, his right eye twitching ever so slightly. 

“A report of another suspected deviant just came in…” He looked back to you. “I’m...afraid we will have to resume this discussion later.” You sighed, unfolding your arms. “Of course. You seem fond of buying me coffee anyways. Let’s go.”

\--

The three of you stood in silence as the elevator ascended. Observing the derelict conditions around you, you could hardly believe people still lived here; the place had clearly seen better days. Upon reaching the floor stated in the report, the elevator came to a stop and the doors slid open. Both you and Hank stepped out, but Connor remained behind, his eyes shut. Hank sighed in annoyance.

“Oh for the love of...Hey Sleeping Beauty! Hate to disturb you, but we’re here.”

The android’s eyes blinked open, head tilting to the side. “I’m sorry, I was making a report to CyberLife.” You eyed him suspiciously. Was it really that easy for him to relay information? The IMF wasn’t kidding when they said these guys weren’t playing around. You would have to be mindful of what you let slip around him, that much was clear.

“Well you plannin’ on staying in the elevator?” the older detective scoffed, starting off down the hallway

“No…” 

Finally catching up with the two of you at the apartment door, Connor straightened himself and rapped his knuckles on the peeling wooden panel. No anwer. He looked to Hank who just shrugged at the failed attempt. You rolled your eyes, slipping in front of Connor and pounded the door with your first. “Anybody home!? Open up, Detroit police!” As you awaited an answer, you looked back at the surprise written on both men’s faces with a wink. The playful demeanor quickly dropped upon hearing a loud crash emitting from within the unit however. Hank immediately planted a hand on your shoulder, gently nudging you back. “Stay behind me.” Pistol drawn, he braced himself before delivering a forcible kick to the door, busting it wide open. Your own weapon at the ready, the three of you entered the apartment, all on full alert.

You ducked into a small room on your left, clearing it before you were met with the sound of what sounded like a very distressed Hank.

"What the fuck is this?!"

You took off towards the main room, only to be met with a massive flock of pigeons and the fetid stench of rotting wood and bird droppings.

“Mother fucking pigeons! Fuck!” He shook himself free of his shock, looking around the hovel. “How the hell can anyone live like this?” 

Connor took off into the bathroom adjacent to the living area. Tiptoeing around the birds, the three of you proceeded with your investigation. A poster hung slack on the wall caught your attention. Peeling it back, a breach in the drywall revealed itself and you reached in, retrieving a small notebook. Flipping through, a collection of scribbles and strange symbols dawned the pages, some of which you recognized from the house during your first investigation.

“It’s LED is in the sink.” Connor called from the bathroom. Snapping the mysterious journal shut, you made your way across the unit with Hank to join him. 

He stood before a tile wall littered with the same “RA9” inscriptions as before.

Hank cocked an eyebrow at the sight. “Any idea what it means?”

“RA9...written 2471 times. It’s the same sign written by the other deviants.” Connor paused, processing the information. “Why are they so obsessed with this sign?” You stepped forward, handing him the journal. “I don’t know, but it’s not limited to walls. “Dear diary” is making a weird comeback.” He scanned the pages, unable to decipher what he was looking at. 

“Looks like a maze…” Hank offered, peering over his shoulder.

Your deliberating was collectively interrupted by what sounded like shuffling coming from above. Connor pocketed the book as his scans panned from the bathroom to the living room, finally landing on a large hole in the ceiling at the far end. You and Hank exchanged knowing glances, drawing your firearms as Connor stepped up to the spot. As he moved to stand on the chair beneath it, a flock of pigeons suddenly burst out of the gap, followed by a figure who proceeded to land on the unwitting android below. Colliding to the ground, the figure scrambled to its feet and took off towards the door. Connor rolled over, pushing himself up. 

“What are you waiting for?! Chase it!” Hank bellowed.

Without acknowledging the command, Connor took off in the direction the assailant had gone. Refusing to let him have all the fun, you made a dash for the hallway after the two androids, brushing past Hank.

“Where the fuck do you think you’re going!?” His voice drowned out behind you as you whipped to the right upon exiting the unit. 

Connor crashed through the emergency exit door at the end of the hall after the fleeing android, you hot on his heels. The suspect reached the edge of the rooftop, plunging over the side without hesitation. Not far behind, Connor vaulted after the target, also disappearing from view. Upon reaching the edge yourself, you halted, observing the lofty drop. You were agile, but still only human. A fall from this height would surely result in severe trauma. Quickly surveying the environment the suspect took off into, you noticed a ramp system snaking up from the street level, most likely for the trucks coming and going from the rooftop greenhouses. That was your ticket. You tapped the com in your ear as you sped towards the far end of the rooftop. “Connor! Stay on it, I’ll try to cut it off!”. Hauling yourself over the edge, you gripped the sides of the ladder, surrendering yourself to gravity. Heat licked your palms despite the padded gloves as you rapidly descended, further spiking the adrenaline accumulating in your veins. Touching down, you sprinted to the Ducati parked across the street. Helmet secured, the engine roared to life as your fingerprints met the accelerator, and upon disengaging the kickstand you were off. 

“Lex, I need a live feed on Android serial number 313 248 317!” 

“Right away Agent. Connecting.” The digital HUD sputtered to life within the helmet’s visor, syncing with the incoming satellite feed, navigation and vehicle status. Weaving between passing trucks and motorized carts as the bike sped up the ramp, you spared a glance at the footage in the top right if your vision, determining the best approach. 

“Reduce visual range to 30%.” The image zoomed out, revealing a larger footprint of the area. They were heading towards the tracks. Reaching the rooftops once more, you cut a hard right directly through a barley plot, the stunned workers a blur in your peripheral. Your gaze flicked up to the feed again, noting the cluster of buildings ahead. There was no going around them. Returning your attention to the stalks whipping past, your grip tightened on the accelerator, revving the engine. This was the only warning the workers ahead would get before the speeding vehicle broke through the field’s cover and charged through the greenhouse doors. Both humans and androids fled your flight path as you threaded the bike straight between the narrowly arranged nursery shelves, crashing through the back doors. Cutting left, you observed the feed again. You were ahead of them now, but they were fast approaching the tracks, as was a cargo train from behind you. Shit. That could very well be the target’s getaway if you weren’t fast enough. Looking ahead to the left, the android in question came into view, leaping from a rooftop to the slanted glass panels below...right above the tracks. When Connor didn’t appear behind it, worry bore through you. Shit shit. The speeding train broke through the tunnel below, and your stomach dropped as the android plunged to the shipping containers it had in tow, rapidly disappearing from your sights. 

Determination boiling, you revved the already straining vehicle for everything it had, spotting a stack of pallets propped against the roof’s edge. This was suicide. But you were hell bent on retrieving that android, time running thin for your investigation. And at the vehicle’s current velocity, you were going over whether you liked it or not.

You braced yourself as the tires connected with the palettes one second, losing their traction the next as you were launched into the air. Your breath caught in your chest. As you plunged towards the speeding train, you caught sight of a figure grinding to a halt at the edge of the rooftop where the other android had been. Connor.

You honest to god thought this was it. What were you thinking? This wasn’t a fucking movie set. Just as you began accepting your inevitable fate, you were jolted back down to Earth as the tires collided with the metal surface, the suspension nearly giving way upon impact. And all at once you were back. You weren’t out of the woods yet though. There was no way the bike was making it over the gaps between the crates, and with much anguish, you cut the engine, leaning heavily to the left and allowed the vehicle to skid out from underneath you. The motion didn’t go without consequence, your side slamming into the metal terrain as you dropped. Adrenaline compelling a quick recovery however, you rolled over and pushed yourself to your feet, watching as the bike drifted over the side and out of view. Well that was going to be a compelling report to file.

Sights shifting to take in the length of the locomotive, you spotted the android racing across the crates towards the first car. You drew your firearm and took off after it, clearing the broad gaps between the crates as you closed in. Once within firing distance, you halted, aiming the pistol at the android. 

“Stop or I’ll shoot!”

It stalled, nearly stumbling forwards at the words. Raising its hands slowly, it turned to face you. The hood blew back to reveal its face; a male android, younger in appearance than the last few. And it looked utterly terrified. You reminded yourself the violence they were capable of, maintaining your aim.

“I don’t want to die!” it exclaimed into the wind, the anguish in its words hissing through you. Your balance faltered momentarily.

“And I will not go back to being their slave...”

Without warning, the android reached back, pulling a firearm from its belt. It took aim and pulled the trigger in one swift motion. You hardly registered the impact of the bullet tearing through flesh and muscle, the searing pain amplifying only once the metal had cleared your shoulder. You stumbled back in shock, your own gun clattering to your feet as you clasped a hand over the wound, a ring of blood beginning to seep through your coat. The android took aim again. Defenceless and now struggling to maintain your balance on the racing train, you braced yourself for the second blow.

The ring of the blast resounded in your ears, your body shuttering in response.

But no pain accompanied it. You looked up. The android wavered, a stream of blue blood trailed down its face and it fell to its knees, motionless.

Finding your footing, you looked back. Connor stood just feet away from you, his own pistol trained on the downed machine. Confirming the assailant was indeed out of commission, he made his way over to you, replacing the weapon in his belt. Upon seeing your condition, however, his artificial breath caught. You recognized the alarm in his eyes. “I’m alright. It was a clean shot, nothing important was hit.” You straightened yourself as best you could to prove your remark. He knew you were right, a quick scan assessing the damage. Still, one faulty move and he had failed to both capture the deviant and keep his partner out of harm's way. He could have prevented this if only he had been more efficient.

“I should have been faster…”

You shook your head, “Look, we can debate this after we get the hell off of this thing.”

\--

Connor helped you down from the engine car. He’d managed to hack into the automated locomotive’s mainframe, overriding it’s protocol and bring the vehicle to a stop. 

You both noticed Hank’s old beater pull up alongside the tracks. The driver side door flung open and sure enough, the third and final piece of your party emerged.

“Jesus fucking christ kid...that was insane.” He caught his breath upon reaching the two of you, composing himself. He looked as though he was about to chew you out for your madness, but his features softened, a hand landing on your uninjured shoulder instead. “Are you alright?” Concern flooded his eyes.

You nodded. “Yeah, yeah I’m fine. But the bike...the bike is dead.” He chuckled at that, lightly patting your uninjured shoulder. "Better it than you, kid." Pulling away he turned to Connor, who had been standing by silently, not giving any indication to how hard his thirium pump was beating, cooling systems desperately working to ease his trepidation. The older man nodded, casting him a knowing look which Connor recognized as his way of showing genuine appreciation. Although he couldn’t understand why; he’d failed his mission, AND you had been shot. 

After the backup Hank had called for arrived, he insisted you call it a day to see to your injuries. With the android crippled and unresponsive, there was nothing more to be done at the scene beyond cleanup. The three of you made your way to Hank’s car in silence. 

You couldn’t help but consider Connor’s prime directive. He was a machine designed to accomplish a task, the task at hand being to apprehend and deliver deviant androids to CyberLife unharmed. But he didn’t seem to hesitate shooting this one clear between the eyes, and it was as good as scrap at this point. Why did he do it?

You gave him a gentle nudge. “Hey,” He broke out of his thoughts, looking over.

“Thank you. For saving my life.” You offered him a small smile, which he returned, but only briefly. His LED spun yellow, and you noted the odd flecks of red breaking through the cycle.

As if the guilt that was already plaguing him wasn’t enough.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> RIP bike. You were a good bean.


	8. Enticing the Beast

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Slightly NSFW. Slightly.

The cherry blossom loomed overhead, enveloping the android below in its shadow. But there was no coldness in its embrace. Alternatively, he felt...safe somehow, as if it were offering comfort rather than passing judgement. It was a strange sensation, acceptance. A simulated breeze ran through the flowing branches, simultaneously tousling his synthetic hair. Lost in thought, he ran his fingers through the fibers, noting the soothing feeling it brought. He stopped. His subconscious was playing games with him again, and this was not the time or place to let those walls crumble. As if on cue, the sunlight faded and was replaced with steady rainfall. An umbrella materialized on the bench to his left. Picking it up, he set off to find his handler. 

It didn’t take long to find Amanda already waiting patiently for him across the bridge. “Connor, I’ve been expecting you. Would you mind a little walk?” There was something disdainful in her tone. He was not looking forward to this.

Forcing a smile, he nodded, opening the umbrella and holding it over the two of them as they advanced down the path. 

“That deviant seemed to be an intriguing case.” She paused, casting the android a sidelong glance. “It’s a pity you didn’t manage to capture it.” 

Gaze fixed ahead, he swallowed. So it was beyond repair then.

“It’s corrupted memory file is of no use to us. Would you care to explain why you neutralized your target by impacting such a vital component?” 

He thought for a moment, compiling his response. 

“A human life was in danger, and a detective no less. My programming prioritizes human lives over a machine’s, does it not?” He paused. “Likewise, the train tracks were uneven and threw off my stabilizers. I missed my target. I agree I should have been more effective.” A half-truth. He was designed with near flawless compensation features, thus his balance very rarely faltered. The train being no exception. The excuse tasted bitter on his tongue, she wouldn’t buy it.

Amanda hummed, eyes narrowing and she returned her sights forward.

“Was she wounded?”

How did she know you were the victim in question? His mind drifted, conjuring an image of the blood glossing your leather jacket, the puncture clean through the material, and your shoulder. He beraded himself once more for being so careless.

“Yes. But y/n's system is repairing itself quickly with the aid of nanotechnology.” 

The woman glanced up at him curiously.“Nanites? She must have sustained considerable damage for medical professionals to resort to such controversial methods.” 

“She...didn’t check into a hospital. She insisted on self treating.” You had mentioned how the IMF discouraged checking in to public facilities for fear of DNA circulation. The less of you out there, the better.

“Interesting. Now where would she have come across such advanced technology for at-home use I wonder?”

Connor’s chest tightened. He’d said too much. Grasping for an explanation she’d likely dismiss anyhow, he willed his composure to remain. 

“The LAPD has its own practices. It’s possible their funding allowed for trials on their field personnel.” 

Amanda halted, only adding to his angst.

“We both know something isn’t adding up with detective y/l/n. I asked you to monitor her and report your findings. I’m afraid you’ve been rather negligent Connor, on both fronts.”

What did that mean? Would she replace him? He straightened, feigning a determined bearing. 

“I am confident that I will solve this investigation, Amanda. I just need more time. I won’t disappoint you.”

“Time is something we don’t have an abundance of. Put an end to this deviant mess, and ensure detective y/l/n remains focused on our cause. Or I will be forced to replace you.” 

The next moment, his eyes opened to focus on the space around him, finding himself back amongst the dimly lit DPD Android recess pods. As he came to, recalling Amanda’s words stung him. She would most definitely replace him if he failed to improve his performance on this case. A flurry of information whirled violently through his mind, a sudden desperation overtaking him. He HAD to close this case, no longer just for the sake of CyberLife, but for himself. Try as he may to deny it. To quell his mental frenzy, he found himself seeking company, another mind to distract his own. He called up Hank’s phone.

“Who thfuck issthis?” His speech was heavily slurred, a clear sign of intoxication. The murmur of unintelligible conversations hummed in the background. Jimmy’s bar. 

“It’s Connor, Lieutenant, I was just wondering if you-”

“Wha timeissit...ahh fuckin’ christ. Whathe hell is thiss!?”

Connor paused, rethinking his approach. 

“It’s nothing Hank, have a good night.” The connection cut out.

Searching his database for other possible candidates, he came to realize the only other feasible option was you. He sighed. The conversation about his...serious miscalculation the other night still had yet to take place. Although tonight didn’t seem like the best time given his predicament. This would be strictly a social call. Another search through his database revealed no phone number connected to you, a search through the DPD’s files also proving useless. Your address was stored in his memory banks after the night he and Hank had dropped you off however. It was settled. He would show up, knock on your door, and if you refused him, that would be that. Simple. Gathering his courage, he called a taxi.

These impulsive notions were going to land him in a lot of trouble one day... 

\--

Settling into the couch, you spread the documents out across the coffee table before you. You huffed. These partial blueprints of the CyberLife Tower were getting you nowhere fast. The thing was basically a fortress, round the clock security on patrol at every entry point, no accessible ventilation, ten times reinforced outer shell. And waltzing in the front door and shooting the place up wasn’t exactly an option. You eyed the disposable cell phone on the table. Your contact with the IMF was to be strictly limited for fear of an intercepted transmission by CyberLife and their affiliates. But you were running out of time, and still had very little to go off of. Furthermore, there was the newly added issue of your lack of transportation…

The line buzzed.

“Yes?” The confused nasally Liverpool accent of your go-to all-things-tech-nerd colleague was unmistakable. 

“Aiden? It’s y/n.”

“Y/n?!” His voice dropped to an emphatic whisper. “You can’t just call in here whenever you bloody well like you know!”

You rolled your eyes. “Relax ya daisy, this isn’t a social call. I’ll make it quick.” He made to object, but nothing more than a choked whimper came down the line when you cut him off.

“I have absolutely fuck all to go off of. Losing our man in security set me back 50 paces and I’ve gotten zero intell since. What the hell is going on?!” By the long pause, you could tell he was likely scouting for any potential evesdroppers. 

“CyberLife got a whiff of a possible sellout - our unfortunate friend in security. So far as we know, they haven’t been able to trace him back to the organization, but we know they’ve tightened up on security tenfold and we can’t take that risk. We’ve had no word from our other informants, so we’re no better off than you are.”

You groaned, rubbing your temple. “So I’m flying blind then.”

“Seems that way, for the time being anyhow.” The sound of a laptop’s keys tapping came down the line. “It looks like you’ve been shot? Are you alright?”

Your chest swelled, a heavy sigh racking your diaphragm. You rubbed the mark between your thumb and index finger on the back of your right hand. God you hated being monitored. “I’m fine. The mini bots are working on it.”

“Ok...well, if there’s nothing else-”

“Actually there is. I need a vehicle. Preferable something with a roof.”

An audible groan. “What about the bike? Not quite up to your standards?” 

You bit your bottom lip. “I...kind of left it on top of a train. Before it kind of fell off.”

A pause. “...I don’t want to know.” More typing. “Dare I ask, do you have a preference?”

You smirked. “Oh you know me Aiden, nothing too flashy.”

“Riiiight...I’ll ping you the coordinates once I set something up within the next 12 hours. Ta.” 

Click. 

Replacing the phone back on the table, you returned to the documents. You were going to have to get up close and personal with the tower if you were going to get anywhere. The clock was ticking. As you read through one of the encrypted invoices, a knock at the door rattled your focus.

“Fucking hell…” Visitors weren't exactly a regular occurrence, least of all on missions. You grabbed the loaded glock from the kitchen island on your way to the door. Another knock. You peered through the door’s eyelet. And there he was, the grandiose Android sent by CyberLife. At 10:30p.m. Leaving the chain in place, you opened the door a crack.

“Good evening y/n.” He smiled awkwardly. 

“Connor? This is a surprise.”

He observed your lax state through the small opening; pajamas, slippers, and…a pistol hung casually at your side. “So it would seem. My apologies for the intrusion, but may I come in?”

“No” was the appropriate answer, but he DID save your life. You chewed your bottom lip, mulling over your options. The documents would have to go. “Give me a sec.” You shut the door in his face. 

Connor waited patiently for your return, turning the coin over his knuckles. A minute passed and the door reopened, fully this time. “Come in.” You stepped aside for the android to enter.

He replaced the coin in his pocket with another small smile, stepping into the unit. “I hope I’m not intruding on your evening plans. Of course I would have called but there doesn’t seem to be a phone number in your files.” More snooping.

“No, not really. Was just planning on vegging out with Netflix and a glass of wine.” Definitely not trying to figure out how to break into the CyberLife Tower. You plopped back down on the couch, throwing one arm over the back, motioning for him to join you with the other. “So...what brings you around at this time of night? A case come in?” God you hoped not. He tentatively sat next to you, ever so neatly maintaining a straight back, knees together and hands coming to rest on the top of his thighs. Taking in the settings around him, he shook his head.

“No I...I just needed to detach myself from the DPD for a while. I wasn’t sure where else to go.”

Your heart sank a little for him. His tone was monotonous, but you swore you picked up a hint of misery in the words. “Hank out at Jimmy’s?” He nodded. You smirked then, casting him a playful glance. “Oh I see, so I was your second choice then huh?” 

Of course he hadn’t meant it that way, but you couldn’t help the pleasure brought on from teasing the proper, analytical detective.You weren’t disappointed when your statement was met with wide eyes, which quickly darted to take in a fascinating stain on the coffee table. “Not at all...I mean, yes, I did call Hank first. But only in the interest of not wanting to disturb you at this hour.” He rubbed the top of his right thigh. Another strange tick. You chuckled.

“I’m teasing, chill out.” Breaking the awkward silence that followed, your phone buzzed, a notification popping up on the screen. You sighed. “I’ll be right back.” Getting up, you grabbed the phone and took off towards the bedroom. Once you were out of sight, Connor stood, pausing to see if you would return. When you didn’t, he took it upon himself to conduct a proper scan of the space. Nothing terribly out of the ordinary, barring a healthy collection of assorted firearms in the closet space across the room. It was to be expected, he surmised, given your field of work. It wasn’t until his scanners picked up a pile of documents tossed haphazardly on top of the store that his suspicions were pricked. He couldn’t see them with his own eyes of course, but his scanners managed to pick up a familiar coding on the documents. What were you doing with CyberLife records?

He ceased his inquiry when the bedroom door opened. You had changed into a tank top, clearly revealing the fading wound on your shoulder. Returning to the couch, Connor curiously observed the small razor-like device you had in-hand.

“This directs the nanites to the site using radio waves.” You gestured to the device with a nod when you caught wind of his curiosity. He mouthed an “Ah.” You demonstrated, holding your finger over the LED on it's side and the device whirred to life. You brought it to meet the site on your shoulder, it’s pulse resonating deep into the muscle tissue. “I have to keep up with them every few hours until things are patched up enough. It's a bit of a drag, but I suppose there just not as smart as you guys." Conner felt his face flush slightly at the wink you cast him. Playing it off, he cleared his throat. 

“I see. Do you require any assistance?”

“As a matter of fact, I could use a hand. My back is kinda stiff after riding on top of a bloody train and getting shot today, and I’m having trouble reaching the site back there. Would you mind?” Switching the device off, you offered it to him.

He hesitated, eyes meeting yours, searching for any sign of doubt. You settled his worry with a smile, and he took the device. Turning to face away from him, you moved your hair out of the way, sliding the tank top strap down to grant him easier access. It was only then that he realized what he’d brought upon himself. He swallowed as his gaze trailed down the length of your neck, across your shoulders and down your back. Your skin looked so soft and supple...then his sights were met with the inflamed ring of the bullet wound. Lust melted into concern, the guilt from earlier pulling at him once more. 

He brought the device to rest over the site and you winced at the sudden cold contact of the metal. Instinctively, his free hand moved to rest against your upper back to quell the discomfort, his palm radiating a pleasant warmth on contact. The tender motion surprised you, but you made no move to pull away. It was a gentle comfort, something you weren’t used to.

A few minutes went by while the device went to work, and Connor felt an itch thrum at the tips of his fingers. Testing the waters, he began running his thumb lightly over your skin beneath it. Your breath hitched. What was he doing?

He looked up, tilting his head slightly to monitor your reaction. Your eyes drifted shut, a barely noticeable sigh escaping you. Taking note of how you leaned back into his touch, he felt himself relinquish to an unseen force, delighting in your reactions. His thumb pressed more firmly into your skin, beginning slow rotations, coaxing out the stresses that plagued your sore back. The seemingly innocent motions and the minimal contact with your skin beneath his were enough to upset the balance within his systems. Unable to resist, his hand trailed further up your back, pausing at the nape of your neck to roll his thumb over the stiff muscles on the right, before slowly dipping his fingers to work on the left. 

You really weren’t sure what was happening, or how it had gotten to this point, but it felt incredible. You shuddered as the tips of his fingers brushed your collarbone while he worked, kneading the sensitive tissue with a tenderness that left you wanting more. Tentatively, you lowered your head, rolling it to the right to grant him easier access.

This was the last thing Connor expected. A familiar cord began to tighten in his stomach, the drum of his thirium pump accelerating at the sight of you giving yourself over to his touch. Internal cooling engaged, he focused on the task at hand rather than himself. It was his fault you were in this state after all, he was hardly deserving of any personal recompense.

You sighed again, sheer relief flowing through you under his thorough ministrations. The hum of his systems didn’t go unnoticed however. You glanced back, not quite able to makeout his now trembling frame from such an angle. 

“You alright?” 

“Mhm.” Eyes closed, he processed every sensation that passed through his fingertips, memorized every square inch of skin his palm stroked. “You?”

A partial hum left you in reply as he manipulated a particularly tense bundle of nerves. Whether intentional or accidental, you couldn’t be sure. He continued like this for a while longer until the drone of the device died out, signalling the end of the session. Disappointment tugged at you as you felt the metal withdraw,and the soft clink as Connor place it on the table. His other hand had slid back to your your spine and remained there however. You felt his other hand return to you, ghosting up your shoulder blade and coming around to rest on your upper arm. A chill ran through you.

“My scans indicate that your posterior musculature is overly tense. This will only inhibit the healing process, regardless of the nanites.” He paused. “I could run you a bath if you like, seeing as that helped the other night.” You felt him shift behind you, the pressure of his hands waning.

“Wait…” 

He looked back to you, anticipation growing. He would gladly run you a bath if you so desired, but he would much rather ease your symptoms by means of other methods. If you would have it.

“Could you...go back to doing what you were doing before?”

“Sorry?” Oh he knew what you wanted. But you would have to ask.

You huffed, not enjoying being pinned. “I haven’t had a massage in...I don’t even know how long actually. It felt...nice. If it’s not too much trouble, would you mind continuing?” You virtually purred the words, applying your own test, and they fell on his audio processes like honey.

Returning to his original position behind you, he couldn’t hold back a grin. “Very well, if you insist.” You recognized his smug tone from the drug store the other night. But there was no way it was intentional...was it? Expert hands slid back to take their place on your shoulder blades, resuming their charge. You couldn’t hold back a quiet groan as your muscles were now manipulated by two thumbs. 

Connor adjusted himself so his leg closest to you rested bent at the knee in front of him on the cushion, allowing him to face you fully. This also allowed his now throbbing member, which he was adverse with to resist, some relief. He glided his hands over your skin, massaging as he went, lower and lower on your spine until he hit fabric. His brow knitted at the obstacle. But, not wanting to push his luck, he continued over the tanktop. 

The lack of contact spoiled the experience for you however, and you moved yourself forward away from his touch. He was an android right? So things like human anatomy didn’t mean anything...right? Throwing this finite fuel on the fire, you grasped the bottom of the shirt, pulling it over your head and tossing it to the ground. You didn’t dare look behind you. 

Had you done so, you would have been met with Connor’s complete and utter shock, eyes as big as saucers at the sudden boldness from his partner. Dumbfounded, his hands took a moment to regain their momentum on your back, but he relished the lack of material between you and himself. Thumbs on either side of your spine, his fingers rotated outwards to brush your waist as he worked, gripping lightly every now and then. You had no idea how he felt, if he felt anything at all, but your excitement was certainly mounding. Doing your absolute best to mask the unsteady breaths leaving you at an increasing rate, you closed your eyes, drowning in the feeling of Connor working you. 

He could feel his frame heating up beyond the recommended parameters as his hands smoothed over you, despite his attempts at cooling. As a last resort, he slacked his jaw, mouth hanging slightly open to allow extra moderation. He was quite literally panting, simply from touching you. Reaching the top of your tailbone, he paused. Your attempts to cloak your own accelerated breathing hadn’t evaded his scans, along with your rapid heart beat. You were turned on. His cock throbbed at the realisation. He wanted nothing more than to remove the pants his thumbs now lined and shove himself inside you, right here, right now. He snaked his hands around to your hips, giving them a firm squeeze. 

Your own mouth dropped open at the feeling, followed by an unsuccessfully stifled moan.

Oh shit.

That was all he needed. He leaned forward, his hands sliding back up to your shoulders, bringing his forehead to the nape of your neck, his nose trailing up your spine as he moved his lips to ghost your skin. 

“Connor…?” It was barely a breath.

“Yes y/n?” 

As he moved to taste your skin, he paused, pulling away slightly. Was something wrong? You turned your head to look back. All at once he released you, as if snapping out of some high, and stood, turning away from you in your topless state. He quickly adjusted himself to hide his almost painfully engorged member, as best he could anyway. “A case just came in.”

Seriously? Right NOW? Flustered and thoroughly bothered, you scrambled for your top, tugging it back on. What the fuck just happened…

“I’m...sorry about your massage. I hope it was somewhat beneficial” Hearing you shift off the couch, he turned back to face you. 

Fixing your somewhat disheveled hair, you straightened. “It’s fine. That’s...probably the best I’ve felt in a while if I'm being honest. So, thank you.” He nodded curtly, still shaking his haze. “So, where are we going at this ungodly hour?” 

He shifted in his spot, fiddling with the coin in his pocket. 

“The Eden Club.”

Ungodly indeed. Well, fuck me.


	9. Wake up, Lieutenant

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Swinging by to collect Hank reveals his less than savoury past times. And Connor's inner conflict continues to manifest itself.
> 
> Sumo is best boy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I'm currently kind of drowning in work - I'm a freelance illustrator working on multiple books per week, and this week has just been...ugh. My intention was to combine this little bit with the full Eden Club scene, but that would be another week or so in between chapters as my writing time is grossly scarce this week.
> 
> SO, have this soft little in-between chapter in the meantime. The next one will be up sometime next week for sure, and it will have a lot more substance.
> 
> Enjoy!

“Lieutenant? Lieutenant, it’s me, Connor.” The android patted the comatose man's cheek again, yielding incoherent garbled mumblings and not much else. You stood on the opposite side of the kitchen table, arms crossed and shaking your head. 

“It’s no use, he’s out cold. He’s downed enough booze to drown the frigging Navy. Just call for an EMT already.”

Although the statement came out harsh and accurately reflected your growing impatience, you were actually quite worried about the old detective. The longer he lay there, the longer the excess alcohol would wreak havoc on his system. And the revolver lying just beyond his fingertips only added to his precarious situation. 

But Connor was determined. Raising his hand once more, he brought it down to strike the man’s face with such force even you felt it. It seemed to do the trick though. Hank’s heavy eyelids fluttered open as he attempted to focus on Connor. Satisfied, the android grabbed the man’s arm, pulling him to a seated position, tossing the limp arm around his own shoulder. 

“I’m here with y/n. I’m going to sober you up for your own safety.” Hank didn’t seem to appreciate that.

“Leave me alone you fuckn’ android! You an’ yer fuckn’ girlfrien' can fuck off th’wayyacamein--” the words faded into mumbled gibberish as Connor helped him to his feet. Looking back at the shattered window frame with remnants of the windowpane jutting from the panels, you scoffed. “Yeah, not gonna happen.”

Turning back, you swore you could make out a light flush across Connor's cheeks, but it was difficult to tell in the shotty single-bulb lighting. He cleared his throat. “I’m sorry Lieutenant, but we need you.” The man’s head lolled backwards, rolling forwards as he whispered a barely audible “Fuck you…”

“Thank-you in advance for your cooperation.” Connor glanced over to you as he helped Hank across the kitchen, your arms still crossed and appearing less than impressed. You pursed your lips, raising your eyebrows at the display before looking over to the confused pup sitting by his empty food dish. You sighed. 

The two disappeared into the bathroom at the end of the hall; you opted to wait out in the living room, giving the men some privacy. With nothing better to do, you took in your surroundings. It was a pretty drab little bungalow; unkempt, pizza boxes dating back to God knows when stacked on the kitchen counter, a mound of dirty dishes, random articles of clothing scattered about the living space, and enough dog hair floating around to stuff a duvet. You weren't really sure what sort of state you expected to find Hank's place in, but it certainly wasn't this.

Wandering back into the kitchen, you bent down to kneel over the revolver lying on the tile floor. Picking it up, you turned the weighty piece in your hands, flicking open the cylinder. One bullet...lined up with the extractor. If he was indeed dancing with death, his next step would have been his last. A pit formed in your stomach at the thought. Although you and Hank hadn't exactly gotten off on the right foot, the care and genuine concern he displayed after your incident on the train had left you with a budding soft spot for the man. You remembered how adamant he was that you be treated by medical professionals, saying “the Impossible Missions Fucks can shove it if they're willing to risk their own people for the sake of a few bloodied napkins.” He also didn't care for the idea of thousands of “tiny robots” racing through your bloodstream in hopes of patching you up. 

What could possibly be plaguing him to the point of suicide, you wondered? Straightening up, you removed the bullet from the chamber, pocketing it before placing the piece on the table. That's when you noticed the overturned frame. You hated butting into personal affairs, but curiosity took hold. Picking it up, you turned the frame over to reveal a young boy who appeared to be no older than six or seven. That same sinking feeling hit you. Hank never mentioned having kids…

Lost in your thoughts, you failed to hear the footsteps behind you.

“Y/n?”

Startled, you turned, relieved to find it was only Connor.

“Jesus...hey.” You exhaled, collecting yourself. “Well, how is he?”

Fixing his cufflink he approached you, his attention drawing to the photograph in your hand. 

“He'll be alright, he just needed sobering up. And a change of clothes. What's that?” 

You nodded, looking back to the image before handing it to him. “Any idea who he is?”

Connor studied the photo, initiating a facial recognition scan. He blinked, brows knitting.

“It would appear this is the Lieutenant's late son, Cole Anderson.”

Oh no...so your suspicions were correct. Suddenly so much of what surrounded Hank made sense. Connor seemed lost in his own thoughts as he examined the image. You watched curiously as he tilted his head, his fingertips faintly grazing the picture. After a moment, he shook himself from whatever it was that addled him, hastily returning the item to you. Allowing him to harbor his thoughts, for now anyways, you took the image, placing it exactly as you had found it. You had no desire to bring on any sort of confrontation, especially over such a sensitive topic.

Connor wandered into the living room, followed closely by the peppy giant of a dog who had been keeping watch nearby. As he settled himself on the couch, the animal stationed himself directly in front of the android, resting his head on the neatly aligned legs with a plop. Connor’s troubled features softened as he proceeded to pat Sumo's head. 

You couldn't help but chuckle at the sight. Here was this state of the art android detective and supposed killing machine designed for a single purpose, now taking the time to satisfy the cuddly needs of a sappy pup. There was something endearing about it, and it warmed your cold heart. 

You walked over to join the two on the couch. The eager wagging of Sumo's tail picked up as you approached, and his head quickly found your own lap once you too were settled. With a laugh, you relinquished to the pathetic display, scratching behind the dog's floppy ears. The Saint Bernard nuzzled your hand, clearly enjoying the affection.

Connor noted your response to Sumo’s antics. That was the first time he had witnessed such a reaction from you, and he found himself reveling in the mirthful display, a broad smile tugging at his lips. 

“You like dogs too?” The sheer innocence in his tone cut through the somber nature of the situation, evoking another small smile from you. 

“Yeah. I used to have one.” You paused, switching to scratch behind Sumo’s other ear. “I had to give him up a few years back though. The IMF demanded too much of my time, it wasn’t fair on him.”

Connor hummed with a nod. “I'm sorry to hear that…”

The silence that fell between the two of you was oddly comfortable. Sumo continued to encourage your affection, sighing every now and then as his eyes drifted shut under your touch. You glanced over at Connor who had picked up the book on the table next to him titled "Assholes Finish First" by Tucker Max. You held back a snorting laugh, biting your lip. Of course Hank would possess only the finest of the dying literature still in circulation. You watched as the android's brows continually furrowed, eyes widening occasionally and head cocking at the no doubt obscene contents the pages held. You cleared your throat.

"So, I guess between Hank and I, you can add "Nanny" to your expansive repertoire, huh?" He looked up, lowering the book. 

"You're referring to the aid I provided in both of your less than optimal circumstances?" You blinked. "Yes Connor...that."

He smiled. "I was glad to "lend a hand", as I believe the saying goes." That earned another chuckle from you. Success. Your hands moved to Sumo's chin, doing your best to avoid the abundance of slobber as you thought a moment. 

"We humans are so...fragile. Some days I'd give anything to take a bullet and keep walking as if nothing happened, to stop feeling..." You stopped. Pouring out the mess in your head wasn't amongst your regular habits. You felt particularly stupid when Connor didn't reply. Of course you were still technically talking to a machine, what did you expect him to say?

"But you did." You broke out of your momentary self loathing. "Huh?"

"You did take a bullet and keep walking. Even before the nanites had a chance to activate you were back on your feet." Your face flushed slightly at his words, unable to take your eyes off of the dog in your lap for fear of exposing this rare, vulnerable side of you any more than you already had. 

"Perhaps you aren't as fragile as you think. You made the fall where your unfortunate bike did not, a machine." That made you smirk. That poor bike. You sighed, biting back the nagging sting of tears as you looked up to hold Connor's gaze. The impossibly human softness in his eyes absolutely melted you.

"Maybe you're right...thank you, Connor." 

He struggled to place the look in your eyes. Sadness? Pain? Longing? Perhaps all of them at once? A great many human attributes were still a mystery to him; emotions were not so cut and dry as he'd like to think they were. But he wanted to learn, and not just for the sake of his Mission...a warning flashed in his vision, another software instability prompt he stubbornly pushed away. Whatever is was that afflicted you now he desperately found himself wanting to smooth over, to ease the strife behind your eyes. 

His finger tips itched for contact, a longing to melt your symptoms as he'd done earlier. He opened his mouth to speak, the grip of his left hand on the book beginning to lighten. Suddenly, footsteps shuffled down the hallway and the two of you turned, Connor snapping out of himself once more. Hank stopped just shy of the living room, now sporting a flashy paisley blouse under his coat. Sumo lifted his head from your lap, trotting to his owner's side. Collecting yourself, you stood and wound around to lean against the back of the couch, a grin now tugging at your lips at the sight.

“Well well, look at you. You’re sure to be the belle of the ball.” You winked, to which Hank merely scoffed as he grabbed his keys off the table in the hall, tossing them to you.

“Yeah yeah. Let’s just get this over with.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't drink and drive kids!


	10. Mad World

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Your investigation brings you to the notorious Eden Club, a playground for humans and androids alike. But mostly for humans. Things go terribly wrong when one client plays a little too rough however.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I should totally be working right now...but here I am. Really wanted to get this one out so I could keep the ball rolling. Enjoy!

Light snow cascaded through the quiet city streets, a thin layer now blanketing the sidewalks and asphalt. The crunch and groan of densely packed snow reverberated under the old car’s tires as you pulled up to the neon lit venue, shifting into Park at the curb. Hank grumbled from the backseat.

“Urgh, feels like someone's playing with a drill inside my skull...you sure this is the place?” He peeked out the window with glazed eyes, palms massaging his temples.

“It's the address from the report.” Connor shrugged from the passenger seat. 

“Right...okay,” the man huffed. “Let's get going.”

\--

The heavy bass line resonated deeply within your chest as you walked down the entry hall, a slow, steady beat tuned to entice and set the mood for the bordello's clientele. Hank was none too thrilled, the combination of the heavy music and steadily declining inebriation buffeted the inside of his skull like a jackhammer. Groaning, he pressed a palm to his temple again to subdue the throbbing. 

“Sexiest androids in town, huh?” You read the screen lining the entry way as you walked past.

Hank scoffed, lowering his hand and glancing at Connor. “Now I know why you insisted on coming here.”

The android felt his face grow warm at the accusation, but he kept his cool, gaze locked ahead and lifting his chin slightly. “We're responding to a call, Lieutenant. We're not here as patrons.” Hank just rolled his eyes, walking ahead.

It was unnerving seeing the androids sealed within the glass pods, stripped down and eying you wordlessly as you passed by. It seemed to solidify their personification as little more than play things to humans. Their all too human aesthetic only added to that sentiment. Although you knew they could neither feel nor truly grasp the nature of their own state of being, a sense of pity rooted itself in your chest as you locked eyes with a female model in passing. 

“Hey Hank! And company”. Turning from the dodgy looking club manager, Officer Collins greeted your party with a nod, Hank returning the gesture. 

“Hey Ben, how's it goin’.” The two exchanged a handshake before Collins shot a thumb towards the door behind him. 

“It's that room there. Oh uh, by the way... Gavin's in there too.”

Hank sighed deeply, shoulders dropping. “Oh great. A dead body and an asshole, just what I needed.” 

The three of you proceeded past the other detective into the circular room. Your nose scrunched involuntarily as your senses were bombarded with the cloying air of sweat and cheap soapy cologne. The victim in question was splayed out on the bed in the centre of the room, the sheets draped over his lower half, lackluster eyes staring up at nothing with a semblance of shock still written across his face. 

“Well if it isn't Lieutenant Anderson and his plastic pet. And the unfortunate third! How's it going’ sweetheart? Still bummin’ around with these lame-o’s?” Gavin, complacent and derisive as ever.

You shrugged, arms crossed as you looked between your two partners with feigned indifference. “Ah, you know. I take what I can get. Not like the precinct has anything better to offer.” 

The pompous grin dropped instantly from his face. He glowered wolfishly at you for a moment before scoffing, turning his attention back to Hank. You noticed Officer Miller quietly posted in the corner of the room, his staid composure faltering as he broke into a small grin at the exchange.

Connor stepped up to Hank’s side. “We’ve been assigned all cases involving androids.”

“Oh yeah? Well you’re wasting your time.” The gruff man brushed his nose with his thumb, turning back to the victim. “Just some pervert who, uh, got more action than he can handle.” He laughed, his tone mocking.

“We’ll have a look anyway, if you don’t mind.” Doing his best to ignore Gavin’s chirping, Hank crossed his arms, observing the scene before him. 

“Pfft, c’mon, let’s go…” making his way to the door, the detective paused next to Hank. “It’s, uh, starting to stink of booze in here…” With one final scoff, he sauntered out of the room, shoulder checking Connor on the way. Chris offered Hank an apologetic look. “Night, Lieutenant.” You resisted the bubbling urge to follow suit and acquaint Gavin’s smug face with the polished floor.

“Think Fowler would write me up if I shoved one of these poles up his ass?” 

Hank chuckled, his sullen visage lifting slightly. “Good luck fitting it past his head…”

\--

Seemingly obvious at first glance, the crime scene unveiled more questions than answers. It was clear the victim had suffered asphyxiation, as was apparent by the marks around the neck. Connor had successfully managed to revive the Traci in shutdown off to the side of the room. A critically damaged Biocomponent, no thanks to the victim’s rough taste in play, only granted limited time for questioning however. His efforts did manage to reveal the presence of a second Traci. Better than nothing. Despite his unique abilities, Connor had divulged that detecting deviants was no simple task. You would have to rely on your environment to make any headway. 

“Maybe an eyewitness? Somebody who saw it leave the room…” Hunk mulled over your limited options “I’m gonna go ask the manager a few questions about what he saw. You let me know if you think of anything.” 

You accompanied Hank to interview the thoroughly agitated man, who was now typing furiously on his phone. Looking back, you saw Connor approach one of the capsules, observing the female android swaying to the beat of the music inside. A sudden drop within your stomach caught you off guard. You weren’t...jealous, were you? No, that would be absolutely ridiculous, he wasn’t like that anyways. He knew what he was doing. As you turned your attention back to the two men next to you, Connor’s voice cut through the man’s stuttering mess of an account.

“Excuse me Lieutenant, Detective. Can you come here a second?” 

Hank raised an eyebrow. “You find something?”

“Maybe…” Leaving the manager to himself, the two of you followed him back to the capsule. Stopping in front of the swaying android, you and the older detective exchanged confused glances.

“Hank, can you rent this Traci?” 

“For fuck sakes, Connor, we got better things to do!” He turned to leave but you stopped him, gently reaching for his arm. 

“Oh come on, it’s going on the DPDs tab. Couldn’t hurt to shake things up in the department a bit.” There was an air of humor in your words, but in all seriousness, you knew Connor was onto something. 

“Please Lieutenant, just trust me.”

Hank looked between the two of you before finally relinquishing with a huff, stepping up to the terminal. “This is NOT going to look good on my expense account.” Punching in his pin, the AI chimed, thanking him for his purchase and wishing him a pleasant experience. “You’re welcome…”

The glass panel slid open then, and the sultry Traci stepped out, taking in her purchaser. “Delighted to meet you. Follow me, I’ll take you to your room.”

The detective shoved his hands in his pockets, not quite sure what do with himself as he looked back to Connor with uncertainty. “Ok, now what?”

Approaching the android, Connor extended his hand, and as if on command she did the same. You watched on curiously as the synthetic skin withdrew on both limbs, revealing the pearly coating beneath. It was often difficult to discern between Connor’s humanity and mechanical makeup. True, he could emulate human characteristics, but this was a strange reminder of how non-human he really was. You looked away.

Just as quickly as the exchange took place, it ended, Connor releasing the Traci and stepping back.

“It saw something…” 

Hank was just as confused as you were. “What are you talkin’ about, saw what?”

“The deviant leave the room...a blue-haired Traci.” He paused, looking around the large venue. “Club policy is to wipe the androids’ memories every two hours. We only have a few minutes if we want to find another witness!” 

And so the hunt was on. Hank grumbled with each demand to empty his account as the three of you followed the Traci’s bread crumbs, moving from pod to pod. Entering a room near the back doused in soft pink lighting, Connor advanced on a pod containing a well built male Traci. Hank rolled his eyes, wholly exasperated at this point. “For fuck sakes Connor…” 

You placed a hand on the man's shoulder as he went to approach the terminal. “I'll take this one. It'll please the folks back home to know I'm hard at work.” 

Hank snickered. Much to his chagrin, your audacious nature and sarcasm was growing on him. “Hey, be my guest.”

Placing your palm on the terminal, you confirmed payment. The android within the capsule watched you carefully with hooded eyes, following your every move as if you were prey. Looking up from the panel, you swallowed as the glass pod slid open, the Adonis of a machine stepping out and giving you a thirsty once over. 

“Delighted to meet you. Allow me to show you to your room.” The rumble of his baritone voice dripped with seduction, clearly tuned to smooth right over your weak spot. You found yourself carried away with it, slipping into a long lost dominion teeming with a hungry desire. He stepped closer when you didn't respond, now only inches away from you. Unable to break from the hypnotic gaze of the ethereal android, you found yourself shivering as the back of his hand trailed feather light down your arm, stopping at your elbow to slowly wrap around your waist and rest firmly on the small of your back. He pulled you closer. Dumbfounded, your breath hitched, his perfectly sculpted lips mere inches from your own. He licked his top lip, slowly, topping off the delicious gesture with a teasing bite to his bottom lip. You were only partially aware of Hank making a fuss in the background, his waving hand a misty blur in your peripheral as the fog in your mind spread. Good lord, how long had it been since a man had handled you this way...

“Fucking hell y/n, we’re here to question these things, not fuck around!...Literally.” Thoroughly uncomfortable with the display, he shook his head and excused himself to the other room. 

“Huh?” Did he say something? Even when Connor stepped up next to you and cleared his throat you remained transfixed. Just as the android began leaning in, a hand wedged its way between the two of you, pushing firmly on the shimmering model's exposed chest. You were snapped out of your trance in an instant, blinking and looking instead to your partner. And what you saw rocked you to your core. An unmistakable blue hue painted across his cheeks, jaw tightly clenched, lips drawn in a thin line, eyes narrowed and dark as he stared down the android with its arm still snaked around your waist. To put it lightly, he was alarmingly pissed.

Realizing your predicament, you wiggled your way out of the Casanova's grasp, your hip brushing Connor's as you were freed. He faltered for a moment, brow twitching. Once you were clear, he gave the male Traci a judicious but firm push back towards the pod, his vision flashing with warning prompts as he fought to restrain himself. Hank had spotted the silent exchange and rushed over.

“Hey hey! What the hell's going on over here?!” 

After a tense few moments, Connor's shoulders appeared to relax, the rest of his rigid frame following suit. He shut his eyes as his processors registered his partner's voice. As if only just tuning in himself, he looked over the scene, jerking back slightly when he realized he'd pinned the Traci against the glass door of its pod. What was wrong with him? The warnings faded out of view, and as he snapped back into reality, he instead brought his hand to lock around the other androids forearm, instigating a link. 

Hank glanced your way, cocking an eyebrow. You just shrugged, rubbing your arm, still flushed and rather embarrassed by the whole ordeal. Your carnal needs had always played second fiddle to your duties at the IMF. Maybe you had been a little too negligent over the years... 

Releasing the android, Connor rolled his shoulders, adjusting his tie with one hand. “It saw the blue haired Traci. It fled into the next room.” He was as deadpan as ever, all of the intensity which had commanded his systems only moments ago gone. Without so much as a glance your way, he strode past the two of you, leaving you in his wake.

After consulting a couple more models, Connor’s link with the janitor seemed to produce the final piece of the puzzle. “I know where it went, follow me.”

Hank was about done with all of this cat and mouse. “Fucking-A. This is crazy...” 

The trail lead down a small hallway out back, the establishment’s warehouse. As Connor approached the door, the older man halted him. “Wait...I’ll take it from here.”

The android paused, stepping backwards next to you. His frame grew rigid as his arm brushed yours, a sudden chill driving up his carbon spine from the contact. You noticed it too, but were still too embarrassed to make eye contact and you opted to keep your focus trained ahead. As Hank pushed the metal door opened, you drew your own firearm, entering the space after him.

It was quiet.

Parts, clothes and various tools lined the space. Looking around you caught sight of numerous dismembered heads and limbs shoved into boxes, hands and feet protruding from a dumpster off to the side. It gave you the creeps. No sign of any active androids however. 

“Shit, we’re too late…” Hank lowered his weapon, surveying the space. You, on the other hand, weren’t so sure. Things had a way of hiding in plain sight in your line of work, most notably yourself.

Taking a right, Connor made his way to a group of stasis androids positioned in rows off to the side. The dim lighting made it difficult to determine their individual makeups. On closer inspection however, a faint yellow light reflected on the contours of two models’ faces. He tilted his head to the side curiously, reaching out to connect with it's source. Blue hair...

Suddenly, the machine in front sprang to life, shoving him hard against a steel beam. The loud twang of the impact resonated in the open space, drawing you and Hank to the commotion instantly. He trained his firearm at the assailant wrapped around Connor as you both moved in. 

“Don't move!” But no sooner had he barked the warning, the blue haired Traci lunged from the group, descending on the unsuspecting detective. She grabbed his wrist in an attempt to relieve him of the weapon, shoving him backwards into a stack of pallets. You suddenly felt like the awkward third wheel, looking between the two parties as you determined your approach. You knew Connor could handle himself. Hank on the other hand was in trouble. 

There was no way you'd get a clean shot with the two tangling in such close proximity. So holstering your weapon, you raced towards the android now pinning the man on a metal gurney, still reaching for the weapon. Approaching from behind, you grabbed her by the shoulders, utilizing your momentum to pry her off of your partner. She whirled around, breaking your grasp with a shove and lunged at you, closed fists driving towards your head. You dodged the blows, throwing your weight back once to lean away from the attacks, ducking under the second round to dive at her midsection, knocking her to the ground. Her head struck the concrete, an audible crack rang in your ears from the impact. Had she been human, that would not have been a pretty sight. Only momentarily stunned, she quickly shook herself and strained to throw your weight from her waistline. Her arms pinned above her head, your hands tightened around her wrists as she squirmed.

“Don't...make this any harder...than it needs to be!” 

A loud crash from behind distracted your focus, no doubt from Connor's own struggle, and the Traci jumped on the moment of weakness to gain the upper hand. One of her arms slid suddenly to the side, lurching you with it and her other arm broke free of your slackening grasp. You were shoved back, the impact knocking the wind from your lungs. This felt familiar. Collecting yourself, you looked up to find the Traci stalking towards you, a thick copper pipe in hand. 

Ah shit. 

Quickly scrambling to your feet, you could only back up so far before she was on you, the pipe swinging once then twice towards your face. Reaching out you grabbed her forearm with one hand as the pipe descended again, your other hand latching onto her other wrist as she reached for you. Bracing on your back foot, you pulled the two of you round, hurling her through a plastic curtain into a stack of crates, the pipe clanging across the floor and out of sight. A stabbing pain shot through your shoulder then, the ordeal beginning to take its toll on your still tender wound. Pulling herself from the rubble, the Traci took this opportunity to grab the chained hook swaying from the ceiling, hurling it at you. Your reflexes down for the count, the heavy metal collided with your chest, knocking you back into the table behind.

Connor wasn't fairing much better. He and the brunette had descended into the loading bay, and he struggled to pull himself up. The blue haired Traci abandoned her conflict with you to help her partner up. Hank made one last attempt to apprehend them but was quickly shoved aside by the androids, his gun knocking free and sliding into the open. The Traci's fingers laced together and the two rushed towards the gate just as you rejoined the party. 

“Quick, they're getting away!” Hank bellowed as you helped him up. Connor pushed himself up, racing after them. You watched on as he grabbed the blue haired android as they started up the fence, the other dropping back down to pull him off. He managed to fend off most of their combined attacks, but a blow from a trash can send him hurling backwards. You made to intervene, but Hank stopped you, acknowledging the growing bloodstain on your top. 

As the brunette rushed towards Connor, he reached for the gun laying off to his side, bringing it round to lock onto her. But he froze...was this the right course of action? Is this...what he wanted? His inner dialogue tugging him in two directions, he finally relinquished, finger easing up on the trigger. That was all the time the Traci needed to land a kick to his chest, forcing him to remain where he was. The blue haired model stepped in front as the other backed off, staring Connor down as he stood.

“When that man broke the other Traci...I knew I was next. I was so scared…” Her LED flashed a solid yellow, fear and anguish breaking in her voice. Her intentions had never been to kill the man, but he simply wouldn't let up. Her confession of love for the other Traci is what truly struck you however, their seemingly genuine attachment sticking a cord within you. The three of you watched as the two departed over the fence, disappearing hand in hand around the corner. 

They were in love...two androids, against all odds. And they were willing to fight and potentially even die for it. Was the world going mad...

\--

Connor didn't speak much for the remainder of the evening. Neither did you. Despite the assailant having gotten away, Hank seemed to approve of Connor's decision, remarking “Maybe it's better this way…” 

And maybe it was. If they were truly in love, who's place was it to say they didn’t deserve the same freedoms to act on it as anyone else? Not that freedom was a concept you yourself were familiar with.

You flopped down onto the soft duvet of your bed now, thoroughly exhausted once more. You had half a mind to run another bath following your session with the nanites, but sleep was taking hold fast. A ping from your phone jarred you out of your drowsiness and you mindlessly pawed for the device across the sheets. Fingers finally brushing the hard case, you picked it up, bringing it to hover over you face. A dangerous move in your current state, but you were too tired to care.

 

*As promised, here are the coordinates: 42.3287° N, 83.0778° W. It'll be available for pick up at noon tomorrow...today where you are.

*And please don’t leave this one on top of a train...Tim was all the way up my ass for that one. Believe it or not we DO have a budget you know. Also, this is a prototype, so if you would be so kind as to return it in less than a million pieces, that would be delightful. Best of luck y/n, we’ll be in touch.

 

Despite the anguish of tonight's events still fresh in your mind (and body), you couldn’t help the smile tugging at the corners of your lips. There were few people you knew who were more of a worry wart than Aiden. He was like the dorky little brother you never had. Though he’d never admit it openly, you knew he’d come to care for you over the years, and the feeling was mutual. It was a comfortable platonic relationship built on trust and professional understanding. His extensive technical knowledge and quick wit had gotten you out of more than a few tight spots, and for that you would be forever grateful. 

Changing into something more comfortable, you settled beneath the sheets, willing the day’s events aside as the many questions plaguing you creeped up. Tomorrow you would be back in the throes of your investigation, and with a new set of wheels you could finally press on with your own mission. There was also the matter of Connor’s discussion you’d failed to have the other day…

Everything in time. But for now, you would sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 10 points to anyone who actually looks up those coordinates.


	11. Mice and Men

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Connor's conflicting emotions continue to eat away at him, try as he may to wash them away. Our reader picks up her new vehicle and shares a drink with the ornery Lieutenant Anderson. Gavin is Gavin.
> 
> NSFW WARNING.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For visual reference, this was more or less my inspiration behind the vehicle: https://www.cars.co.za/motoring_news/chevrolet-fnr-autonomous-concept/33791/  
> I think it fits the aesthetic pretty well, just with a little more...flare. 
> 
> FUN FACT: “LEX” is short for "Lexicon", a group of words formed to create a programming language. It’s also referred to as a branch of knowledge that stores all known words for a particular subject.

A diluted stream of blue mingled with the flowing water, circling the drain under his feet. Forehead resting against his left forearm braced on the tile shower wall, Connor stared downwards absentmindedly, the hypnotic spiral drowning out the ever present nest in his head. Any sort of reprieve was a rarity these days it seemed. Relishing the hot water showering his back, he realized it no longer bothered him that he could actually feel it, and dare he say even enjoy it. He was finally beginning to understand why humans raved about this sort of thing. Closing his eyes, he breathed in deeply the rising steam and soft scent of the Irish Spring soap he'd lathered over his body, scrubbing away the blue blood and dirt which tainted his otherwise flawless complexion. Save for the smattering of freckles that CyberLife had deemed appropriate to enliven his features, of course.

His altercation with the Traci hadn't left him unscathed; she'd manage to land a puncturing blow to his shoulder with a screwdriver, resulting in a nicely stained suit and a gradual loss of Thirium 310. Nothing system compromising of course, but Hank had commented on his “shitty” appearance as he chauffeured him back to the DPD, suggesting he utilize the training facility’s showers. The idea seemed ridiculous at first, androids not requiring such fussing. But now that he was here beneath the steady stream, the warmth flowing over and embracing his synthetic skin as his troubles seemed to wash away, he was glad to have taken his partner's advice.

Still, the evening's events persistently crept up, and he replayed the scene once more. His inefficiency and hesitation tormented him. There was no logical reason for him not to fire, and yet he did not. Two more deviants slipped out of his grasp. Amanda was sure to have words reserved for him….

Then his thoughts trailed back to the incident involving the male Traci and its advances on you. Connor's right hand flexed, recalling the sensation of smooth leather brushing his skin as he wedged his arm between you and your captor, unintentionally grazing your chest. And the way your hip stroked his as you freed yourself from its grasp...how he wished it had been him in the other android’s place. Oh the things he would do to you...

Warmth pooled in his groin, a dull ache beginning to throb as his member responded to the sinful notion. He squeezed his eyes shut, attempting to rid himself of the feeling. He had no right to such human indulgences; he was an android, an asset designed with a single purpose. And yet, something stirred in him, a spark that seemed to flicker brighter with every passing day, threatening to spread like wildfire. The words of Ortiz's android echoed in his mind: “It isn't... fair.”

The flames swelled in his chest. Succumbing to his urges, he groaned, removing his right hand from its post on the wall to wrap around his rapidly hardening member. A hiss escaped him as he rolled his thumb over the sensitive head, easing into the feeling with a few long, slow strokes. It wasn't long before he began slowly pumping, setting an even tempo, forehead pressing into his forearm as the pleasurable sensations overtook him. His mind fixed on you, he placed himself where the Traci had been, where he himself SHOULD have been. He pictured your chest heaving against his own as he pulled you closer, his hands trailing over your back, and lower. Cooling systems kicking in, he slacked his jaw, chest heaving as he maintained a steady pace.

The image of your skin exposed to him, offered to him so freely earlier in the night pushed him further, his strokes quickening. A low, rumbling moan resounded in his throat from the heightened pleasure and he bit down on his bottom lip. The way you had reacted to the Traci's flirting when he'd performed the same gesture suggested you were eager for the contact. He realized then that he could not quite fathom a kiss, having never experienced one for himself. But the prospect of your lips pressed against his, the softness they were sure to possess, and the sheer intimacy of such an act left him desperately wanting a taste. A vision of you trapped between him and the tile wall crept its way into his mind, his lips ravaging your own, your neck, your collarbone...his cock throbbed almost painfully at the thought and he began bucking his hips, now practically thrusting himself into his hand with a steady rhythm. The wetness and lewd sounds of the shower’s stream gushing around his cock as he pumped were music to his processors, and he imagined your own wetness as he plunged himself into you. Chancing a moan louder than before, his forehead ground into his arm, thrusts quickly becoming sloppy and uneven. He was close. The swirling pit in his stomach grew with every stroke and his legs trembled, not from exhaustion, but from the sheer amount of ecstasy overloading his systems. Finally, his entire body tensed as he was thrown over the edge, hips jerking forward as he coated his hand and the tile wall with his fluid. His jaw snapped shut as he fiercely tried to stifle the growling moan prying its way from his throat, eyes squeezed shut as he spent himself. With one last jolt of his pelvis, his body went lax, his hand finding the wall to help brace himself as his frame twitched and trembled with the aftershock of the session. 

He was out of control...what if Amanda were to find out about these unorthodox past-times of his? He shook his head, that was the last thing he wanted to think about right now. After collecting himself and washing off for the second time, he dried himself off, stepping out of the shower and changed into a new suit. He would opt to spend the rest of the night in status to ease his mind. For once, he felt like he actually needed it.  
\--

The next morning seemed to go by in a haze. Upon arrival, you'd dumped your things at your desk, making a beeline for the break room coffee machine. True, this was normally Connor's thing, but you were anticipating a long day ahead, and after the previous evening, you figured getting a jump on your fatigue couldn't hurt. Besides, Connor was nowhere in sight…

“Well well well, if it isn't the ornery third wheel.”

Gavin. You groaned, grip tightening on the edge of the counter, sights held fast on the whirring coffee machine before you. He moved up next to you, leaning against the counter top.

“You know, I'm starting to get the impression you don't like me...we should work on that.”

He leaned back on his elbows, casting you a devilish grin. You merely rolled your eyes.

“I couldn't be less in the mood right now Gavin, so if you'd kindly fuck off…”

“Whoa, such language for a lady!” He feigned shock, clicking his tongue.

“Has anyone ever told you how sexy you make “angry” look?” 

Finishing fixing your coffee, you slammed the spoon down onto the counter, a little more forcefully then you'd intended, whipping around to meet his gaze with a fiery glare.

“Oh ho, I rest my case!” He pushed himself off his elbows, straightening to loom over you, his hand inching towards yours on the counter.

Just then, a hand landed on his shoulder, halting his movements.

“I believe she's already expressed her desire to be left alone.

Gavin jerked himself free of the hand, spinning around to stare down the android. 

“First off, don't ever fucking touch me you plastic piece of shit, got it?” He forcibly brushed the spot Connor's hand had come in contact with. “Second, what the fuck does an over sized coffee-maker know about “desire”?” He laughed scornfully.

Connor held his ground, calmly unperturbed by the jab. “True, it isn't in my programming to fully comprehend or reciprocate such emotions. But I am capable of discerning when my actions have been rejected, and react accordingly.” His tone was dull and factual, but there was an unmistakable hint of mockery behind the mask.

“Why you little prick…” the detective stepped up to Connor, mere inches from him now and shoved a finger in his face. “I ought to clean the fucking floor with you!” The android never faltered, maintaining relaxed eye contact while Gavin practically foamed at the mouth. 

“Alright, alright! That's enough!” 

Hank? You glanced at the clock; 9:45am. 

Gavin stared down the android a moment longer, waiting for a reaction. When he received none, he scoffed, backing off before taking his leave, winding around Hank with a dramatic huff. 

“The fuck was that about?” He grabbed his mug down from the cupboard, reactivating the coffee machine. 

“Nothing. Gavin just thinks the world revolves around his dick.”

“Huh, and those BBC programs always made the planet look so much bigger than that.”

You snorted into your coffee. Connor just tilted his head to the side, clearly confused by the comment. You met his gaze, lowering your mug, a grin plastered on your face. 

“Don't worry about it, Connor…Just don’t ever go to Gavin for any kind of dating advice.” You smiled, patting his shoulder as you passed him on your way to the break room entryway. 

He felt his face flush again, and he shut his eyes for a moment once you passed to collect himself. Upon reopening them, he was met with Hank’s questionable gaze from the coffee machine, eyebrow cocked while he slowly stirred his coffee. Connor’s jaw clenched; he’d hardly noticed the Lieutenant. Without a word, the man set his spoon in the sink, picking up his mug and walked past the android to join you. Breathing deeply, Connor adjusted his tie, turning and following suit. 

You returned to the floor, coffee in hand and feeling a great deal more elated. Sitting at your desk, you were surprised when Hank stopped next to you, clearing his throat. You looked up. He swirled his coffee, looking into it for a moment before lifting his gaze to meet yours. 

“I, uh...just wanted to say thanks, for sticking your neck out for me yesterday. That was a hell of a brawl.” 

You flushed slightly, taken aback by the sincerity in his normally gruff, disinterested tone. “Of course... couldn't watch you get your ass kicked by a girl after all.” He grinned at that, relaxing a bit. 

“Smart ass.” There was a pause as he ran his thumb over the side of his mug. “Hey, what do you say I thank you properly over a drink at Jimmy's, on me.” 

That genuinely made you smile. “Yeah alright. Tonight after our shift?” 

“Tonight it is.” He raised his mug slightly with a nod before continuing on to his own station. 

Connor was already at his post, files pulled up on his desktop and reports waiting to be reviewed and filled out. But overhearing your conversation froze his systems. Although he was still naive to many human traditions, Hank's offer sounded a lot like a proposition to accompany him on a...date. He couldn't help the churning in his stomach. 

“CONNOR!”

Jerking out of his thoughts, his head whipped around to face Hank's station, the man now leaning over his own desk towards the android. He hadn't even realized he had been staring at the back of your head the past few minutes. Hank startled at the sudden motion, plopping back into his seat.

“Jesus fucking...did you forget to turn your hearing aids, or atomic processors or...whatever the fuck on?? For the third time, I need that report on the Eden case filled out by noon, got it?” 

Conner paused, processing his words as he came back down. “Uh, right, got it.”

\--

11:30am flashed up from your phone. Time to hit the road. You submitted the files you'd finished throughout the morning before collecting your coat and phone, opening the app to hail a cab. Walking up to Hank's desk, you gave it a gentle rap with your knuckles to turn his attention from the stack of papers on the opposite side. He swiveled around to face you.

“I'm heading out for a bit, I'll be back in an hour or so k?” 

“Lunch?” 

“Yeah...kinda.”

He nodded, giving you a knowing look. Connor peeked out from behind his monitor at the mention of “lunch”. 

“Would you care for some company?” He offered you a small smile. 

You scratched the back of your hand beneath your folded coat, suddenly feeling a little guilty. “Uh, I'm sorry Con. They... don't allow androids where I'm going. Tomorrow?” 

“Oh...ok. I understand. Tomorrow is fine.” He settled back into his chair, his smile falling as he pulled up another file. 

He’d never sounded so shot down before. You never expected an android to make you feel like such a piece of shit…

\-- 

The cab slowed, pulling into the circular drive outside the long abandoned building. Even in daylight the sight gave you chills; stained brick and years of weathering stood out in the vast empty space, flaunting its haunting solitude with tall stone columns and archways. The hundreds of small square windows littering the structure gave way to your imagination, and you made a point not to look too closely lest a ghostly face greet you back. 

You stepped out into the snow, taking in the structure.

“Michigan Central Train Depot.” You read the old iron sign on the post. The taxi door slid shut behind you and you turned to watch the vehicle drive off, leaving you at the mercy of whatever spectres haunted this place. You huffed. “This better be worth it, Aiden.”

Snow crunching under your feet, you trudged up the unkempt steps, looking up to take in the structure as you approached the great stone arches. 

Stepping in, a gust of icy wind wailed through the grand empty space, rising and drawing your attention upwards to the lofty crumbling ceilings where a light dusting of snow slipped through the gaps. 

You shivered, pulling your coat tighter around you. Making your way through the main lobby space, a buzzing in your coat pocket pulled your attention away from the gloomy ambience. Releasing your coat, you reached into your pocket. It was a message from Aiden:

A: *You're getting warmer!*

Of course he'd tune in and keep tabs on your hunt. You typed back.

Y/n: *I wasn't aware this was a game? You know I DO have a job of sorts to get back to. A hint would be nice.*

A: * Forgive me, I forgot you were moving up in the world. And fine, hint: it's hidden in plain sight. I'm off to lunch, good luck! ;)*

 

The fuck was that supposed to mean? Grumbling, you pocketed the device, looking around the space. “If I were a super secret spy car, where would I hide…”

You wandered around for what seemed like forever, peeking into lounge areas, ducking into the boarding platforms. Nothing. At a loss, you returned to the main lobby, taking one last scan of the space. And then you saw it. An oddly sealed section of brick wall to the left of the main archway caught your eye. It was entirely plausible it has been sealed at some point over the years to redirect traffic. But that looked like a whole other wing of the main building from outside...you walked up to it, scanning the edges. There was something rather odd about it. You held up your hand, bringing it towards the surface. As you advanced to touch the brick, your hand instead fell through, the illusion parting around the limb revealing a ring if static.

“A hologram? Aiden you annoying little devil....” You stepped through the wall, looking back as it dissipated. Turning back round, you stopped dead.

“Oh, devil indeed…”

You were met with the nasty glare of deep blue crystal laser headlights shining out beneath a menacing hood. It was an absolute predator of a machine; sleek black streamlined chassis with a deep blue pearlescent finish, glass dome roof cascading from grill to tail, blacked out windows, magnetic hubless wheels, and minimalistic blue and chrome finishings. This thing was built for speed and stealth. Conducting a walk around, you felt yourself weaken in the knees. You stopped at the driver side door. There was no obvious door panel in sight, so on a whim, you simply hovered your hand over the panel. Suddenly, a beam shot out from a point on the door, widening and scanning down the length of your body. Once completed, it retracted and the vehicle lit up, a click registering within the doors.

“Greetings Agent 57. Nice to see you again.” The placid feminine voice echoed in the space.

“Hey LEX. Looks like someone got a bit of an upgrade, huh?”

The vehicle hissed, the dragonfly style doors rotating upwards to reveal the sleek cockpit interior. You leaned down for a better look inside.

“Well naturally, after the train incident, I needed to be relocated elsewhere.” The AI sounded less than impressed. 

You climbed in, settling into the perfectly conforming seat, leaning back into the woven mesh backrest with a pleased sigh.

“A minor set back, LEX. But hey, looks at us now! You should be thanking me, I'd say this is somewhat of an improvement.” You touched the dashboard screen, pulling up the vehicle specs.

“Yes, but I don’t think the engineers took trains into account. Therefore I would advise you keep this vehicle on the ground.”

“That was a one-time thing, let it go already…” You scanned the list of components, half of which meant nothing to you, but a few key points stood out: bullet proof, microchip tracking and hailing compatible, autonomous and manual drive options, turbo transmission, holographic projector, soundwave disruptor, concealed internal front mounted semi-automatic guns, black out and matte finish holographic synthetic coating for stealth, classic caltrop dispenser beneath the rear bumper...this thing was pulling out all the stops. 

“Well Merry Fucking Christmas…”

LEX cut into your musings. “The FNR-X4 is now synced to your chip. You alone will be permitted to pilot this vehicle, unless you grant additional access. Which I would strongly advise against.” 

You were already activating the manual drive, the doors hissing shut. “Noted. Let's see what this beast can do huh?” Finding the correct access screen, you selected “Manual”, and the panel directly in front of you slid open. The yoke style steering wheel revealed itself, sliding forward and locking into position. Engaging the engine, the vehicle roared to life, interior lights dimming. The rumble of the engine was music to your ears. 

“For a total dork, Aiden certainly knows how to treat a lady.”

\--

The remainder of the day had been relatively uneventful, the deviant mayhem seemingly taking a sick day. Returning from your joyride earlier had drawn a little more attention than you would have liked, and you kicked yourself for not parking a few blocks away as LEX had advised. 

Gavin and Chris had been making their way out for a late lunch just as you were pulling in. Fantastic. Cutting the engine, you pinched the bridge of your nose upon spotting your least favourite detective walking your way. He halted when the dragonfly doors raised and you stepped out. 

“Holy shit...what the fuck IS that?!”

Your turned as the doors lowered back into place, observing it as if seeing the vehicle for the first time. 

“Huh...looks like a car to me.”

He looked from you to the vehicle and back before beaming devilishly.

“Now it all makes sense. You have a sugar daddy! I KNEW there was a reason for the cold shoulder!” 

Chris just rolled his eyes. You resisted the urge to do the same, painfully. Arms folded, you sauntered up to Gavin, stopping next to him. 

“And this is why you made Detective. Nothing gets past you Gavin.” You patted his chest with a wink, continuing past him and jogging up the DPD steps, disappearing through the glass doors. 

Gavin just stood there, baffled.

“Wait...what?”

\--

6:10pm

Checking the time on your phone briefly, you returned your sights to the looming CyberLife tower across the body of water. Evening had crept up quickly, the chilly November days growing shorter with the fast approaching Winter. Sitting with your elbows resting on bent knees, you adjusted your position on the vehicle's hood, the icy metal dropping to near painful conditions through your jeans. 

“Remind me to file a complaint about the lack of external heating…”

Soft static rang in your ear, LEX engaging the com device. “I don't think the engineers planned for exterior seating, y/n.”

“Well they clearly didn’t take their guinea pig into consideration, did they.” 

You adjusted the zoom on your binoculars, the digital HUD updating the information relay in your vision. Security was tight, guards armed and decked out to the teeth patrolled the bridge checkpoint and beyond, right up to the main entryway and circling the grounds of the building. You were trying to find any weak spots in the lines, any discernible pattern in patrols with a break in between their individual routes, but it was air tight. Both the Director and Aiden had warned you of their heightened security protocols since the accident, but this was ridiculous. 

“Christ, they didn't need to break out the entire welcome party…” Frustrated and cold, you lowered the binoculars with a sigh. 

“Your meeting with Lieutenant Anderson is in 15 minutes. Would you like me to forward him a message requesting you reschedule?”

Sliding off the hood you wound around to the passenger side of the vehicle. Detecting your presence, the doors hissed apart, rotating upwards.

“It’s fine, I’ll set up a live feed.” You reached into the back seat, retrieving a duffle bag with various supplies and tech Aiden had stocked you up on. Reaching in you pulled out a small tin containing 10 disks, no larger than a Quarter. Pulling one out, you ducked back out of the doorway and made your way to a tree on the edge of the hill top, securing it to the trunk facing the facility. 

“Besides,” you continued, returning to the vehicle, “I don’t think the Lieutenant extends invitations lightly. And I could use a drink.”

“If you insist…”

\--

The scent of cigars and musky body odor clung to the thick air within the musty space. Where most would turn their nose up at such an establishment, underground venues had become somewhat of a refuge for you; out of sight, the chances of running into anyone associated with the organization slim to none, and no one gave a shit who you were (or they were just too drunk to take notice). Scanning the bar, your sights passed over a familiar head of grey hair, fallen around stern features hovering over a half-downed whiskey. Smiling, you walked over.

“This seat taken?”

He seemed to perk up hearing your voice, casting you a sideways glance with a grin.

“I was startin’ think you weren't showin’ up.” 

Shrugging off your coat, you hung it on a hook opposite the bar before settling on the stool next to Hank. 

“Sorry, got caught up with something. Kind of you to save me a seat though. I hope you didn't have to fight off too many girls.” You flagged down Jimmy, placing your drink order.

Hank just chuckled, taking another swig of his whiskey. “Only a few, and only for the prospect of a free drink.”

Jimmy returned with your drink, and you took it with a nod of thanks, swirling it before taking a swig. Bringing the tumbler to rest on the counter, you stared into the glass, suddenly unsure of how to proceed. Hank was the first to break the ice, clearing his throat.

“So, how are you enjoying our quaint little city? Probably not quite as flashy as your usual stakeouts huh?” 

You smirked, casting him a sideways glance.

“It's...colourful. And it's been plenty flashy.” You paused to take another drink. “I'm still kinda bitter about Dubai, I hear it's lovely this time of year. But, I'll get over it; I made sure to pack my Winter coat...and the people here aren't all shitty.” You raised your glass towards Hank with a grin. 

“Well I don't know about that. But I'll let Connor know anyways.” He tipped his drink towards you, mimicking the gesture mockingly before polishing it off in one go. You just rolled your eyes, thankful for the dim lighting as heat pricked your cheeks. 

“So,” he continued, setting down the empty glass, “any idea how long you'll be with us?”

“Until I complete my mission. Then I'll be called back to the IMF to be re-shuffled into the roster for the next one. And the next one…” You knocked back the remainder of your drink. Hank eyed you for a moment while you gazed into the empty glass before wordlessly flagging down Jimmy, gesturing towards you for another of the same. 

“Man, you sound just like an android. Albeit more bitter and in need of a drink”

You scoffed at that, but you couldn’t help your mind from wandering. “I suppose my position shares a lot of similar traits to their own functions. I do feel like a robot most days…” Another drink was placed in front of you, and you took it without hesitation. 

Hank nodded thoughtfully. “Yeah, I've heard some stories...seems like you guys get a pretty shit deal. Minus the all-expense travelling and gadgets.”

The general tone was relaxed. You chatted briefly about the cases, and Hank offered you some pointers on where to go and where to avoid in the city during your stay. Comfortable small talk.

Looking back up the the basketball game on tv, a short time passed as you each worked on your drinks in silence before you spoke again. 

“How about you?”

Hank turned back to face you. “What about me?” His aura seemed take on a more defensive tone. 

“Well I don't know...tell me about yourself? Isn't that how getting to know people works?”

He huffed, leaning forward on the bar. “Oh please, I know the IMF does their homework. I'm sure you know just about everything there is to know about me.”

In truth, the department had provided you with only a brief summary of your partner; his start as a beat cop on the streets, rising to Detective and eventually working his way into the Red Ice Task Force. All of which led to his promotion to Lieutenant. But not much of his personal life was divulged. 

You sat for a moment, choosing your words carefully. “The other night...before Eden. What was that about?” 

Just as you'd anticipated, he appeared to slip back into himself, staring intently into the bottom of his glass. The distance hung thickly between you two new once more. The gin induced buzz ringing pleasantly in your ears, you were surprised when he spoke up. 

“When life hands you a raw deal...sometimes you can't help wondering if what they've got on the other side is better than the shit we have floating around here.” The evident slur in his voice gave away his state, and you silently shook your head when Jimmy came by again. He nodded, leaving the two of you be. 

“Not like anyone would give a shit anyway.” Hank scoffed, straightening and tipping back the rest of his whiskey, slamming down the tumbler harder than you knew he intended. You weren't really sure what to say. In your line of work, people didn't really talk about their feelings. You got in, completed your mission, got out, and went separate ways. There was no time for inhibiting emotions. Regardless, you reached into your pocket. Pulling it out, you gently placed the bullet next to his empty glass, folding your hands on the bar in front of you . He looked down, then to you, confusion reinstating itself onto his features.

“I've only known you for about a week. And where you may be a bit of a shit head...and one of the most stubborn people I know besides myself, you have more to offer than you think.” Hesitantly, you extended your hand to close gently over his on the bar top. “You're a good man Hank, better than most I've encountered at the agency. We put up these walls to protect ourselves...believe me, I know. But sometimes what goes on behind those walls is what slowly destroys us.” You paused. "Honestly, I'm not great with this kind of thing. But if you ever need a friend, or someone to just get drunk with, you know where my desk is." Sobriety suddenly took hold and he looked down at your hand, warming at your words and under your touch. 

“And there's no way you're leaving me alone to deal with Gavin. So you better stick around at least until I leave.” With a smirk, you gave his hand a playful squeeze before pulling back, looking up at the clock. He laughed. 

“Even if I did, you'd have your Iron Knight to look out for ya.”

You cocked an eyebrow, trying to gauge what he was implying. There was a pause. 

“Could you…maybe talk to him tomorrow? Connor? He's been acting kind of weird lately. Well, more so than usual anyways.” Hank flagged Jimmy down again as he spoke.

“Why me? You were his partner first.” You stood now. Pulling your coat from the hook, you slid it on, walking back to the Lieutenant.

“Call it an old man's hunch.”

You rolled your eyes. “Sounds more like avoidance. But if I have to...I'll give the android a pep talk.”

Hank smiled, fully facing you from his spot on the stool, arm resting on the counter. 

“Thanks for indulging a grumpy old man, y/n. I…” He stopped, acknowledging Jimmy as he set down his refill. You waited, arms crossed.

“Nothing, go get some sleep. Today was too quiet, who know what shit tomorrow's gonna bring.” 

Dropping your arms you chuckled. “Ever the optimist. Goodnight Hank, see you bright and early.” With a nod you turned and walked down the aisle towards the entrance.

“Don't bet on it!” 

Without turning around, you gave him a two fingered salute, exiting the dingy bar. 

A grin plastered on his face, Hank turned back to the bar, bringing the glass to his lips. He paused, glancing down at the bullet staring back at him. A new found lightness suddenly welled within him, something akin to a hope he'd not felt in a long time. Looking around to make sure Jimmy was out of range, he slid his other hand towards the chunk of metal, flicking it behind the counter before tipping back the remainder of his last drink.


	12. Tales of Snow Drifts and Transitory Dreams

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You owed Connor lunch. Or rather you owed him an outing which involved you eating lunch with him merely acting as company. 
> 
> Fluff. Fluff and angst.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No, I'm not dead! This is always a crazy time of year - this week was a lot of wrapping up things for work and travelling to see family. Finally settled at my parents' place across the country for the holidays though! Not sure now much writing I'll get done before the new year, but the next few chapters are pretty well mapped out, I just need to get around to actually fleshing them out properly. In the meantime, enjoy this bit of fluff and angst. If I don't write again before the new year, stay safe during this crazy season, and Happy Holidays to all! <3

Binary code rained down in rapid, illegible succession. Static hissed. A car. A flock of birds. Snow. Unrecognizable faces. A gun. 

Randomly generated images and scenes rushed by, not a single one holding an ounce of significance. One in particular held its focus longer than the rest; a grand cherry blossom surrounded by a gradually darkening open space. As quickly as it had faded into view, it shed its blossoms, the bare tree recoiling and drifting back into nothingness. 

Then he was falling. A familiar sensation, his mind palace drawing him in. But for the first time, somehow, he resisted, willing his feet on firm ground. The DPD flashed in his mind and he focused, the image wavering and darkness closing around the edges of his mind's eye. And then he heard a voice. At first he believed it to be his mentor, and a sense of panic washed over him, the scene recoiling and fading away. But when it called again, he realized it wasn't Amanda at all. It was you. He concentrated on your voice, moving towards the sound and the image began to refocus, a calming warmth rushing over him with a gentle reassurance that everything would be alright.

Then all at once the dream slipped, and he woke up.

~

“Connor?” You released your grip on his shoulder, multiple attempts to shake him into the waking world having failed, and instead brought your palm to his cheek. “Connor!?” Searching his face for any signs of consciousness, you patted his cheek gently. Recalling the force the android had administered in Hank's unfortunate situation the other night, the temptation to apply the same remedy mounded the longer he remained under. Your thumb stroked his cheek apologetically before you pulled away, raising your hand you wound up for the blow. 

Suddenly, his eyes blinked open, chest heaving as if to catch his breath. Recovering quickly from your shock, a heavy exhale escaped you, your hand clasping back onto his shoulder, more for the support than anything, and head dropping as a rush of relief overtook you. Looking back up, your eyes met his, an air of confusion and worry written plainly on his face.

“Jesus, Connor...I thought you'd deactivated or something!”

His brow knitted at the evident wavering in your voice. You were worried?

“I was...merely in stand-by. There was no reason for me to remain active overnight. My apologies if I caused you any amount of distress…”

You laughed nervously. “If?”

As the rapid beating in your chest subsided, the realization of just how close the two of you were struck you, faces mere inches apart. There was a strange glint in his eyes, a softness you'd noticed once before, although it suddenly seemed...brighter.

Connor turned to stone under your gaze, the warmth and weight of your hand on his shoulder was enough to stall his systems and anchor him where he stood. Seizing this rare opportunity, he examined your features more closely, beyond a simple routine scan. He admired the contours of your face, your unique complexion and the intricacy in your eyes. A stay section of hair had fallen from your bangs, now hanging loosely in front of your left eye, and he found the tousled aesthetic of it to be a sort of chaotic beauty. Despite being designed for perfection and efficiency, his thoughts now betrayed him, relishing in each and every one of your human imperfections, however minimal they were. Still, his hand itched to reach up and tuck the strand away from your face, the piece obstructing his view.

You cleared your throat, giving his shoulder an awkward pat before pulling away, tucking the strand of hair behind your ear. 

“Uh…well, now that I know I don't have to fill out the paperwork for a defective Detective, we have that meeting with Fowler this morning, down in Evidence.”

Connor straightened, the distance providing some level if sobriety. He adjusted his tie as he stepped forth from the pod.

“Right, of course. Has Hank arrived yet?”

“He'll be here in 10, he sent me a text not long ago. I have to admit, I'm impressed with his schedule the past couple days. What did you do when you were over there exactly?”

His stomach dropped, recalling the night he'd stayed on the couch, the same night he'd…

“Nothing!...Nothing, I simply advised him it would be in his best interest to arrive within a reasonable window of time, that's all.” 

The two of you walked side by side through the main floor towards Fowler's office, DPD personnel still trickling into the quiet space.

“Oookay...just asking. Keep your secrets then.” 

Easier said than done. He was realizing all too quickly that he couldn't. 

\--

It was a quick meeting, what with the lack of evidence at the DPD's disposal for examination. And the little evidence you did have seemed to hold no rhyme or reason. Was it possible the androids were, in fact, evolving? The progression in Connor alone within the span of a week was fascinating to say the least. You kept all this to yourself however, opting to step back and allowed Hank and Connor to take the reigns with a less than amused Captain Fowler. 

Once the impassioned and profanity laden examination had concluded (which was primarily between Hank and Jeffery as you and Connor watched on, interjecting every now and then to try and quell the heated exchange), you returned to the floor, checking the time on your phone as you approached your work space. 

“Hey,” you poked your mechanical partner in the shoulder and he turned, glancing down at the spot where you'd jabbed him, “It's almost noon, and I do recall owing you lunch.”

Looking back up to meet your smile, a small grin played on his lips. “I'm afraid that's impossible as I have no need for or means of digesting food…” 

Your smile faded, your expression morphing into one of slight annoyance.

“HOWEVER,” he was quick to follow up, grin fading as he attempted to recover from his failed humor, “I will gladly accompany you, if you wish. And if your venue of choice allows androids, of course.” 

Cocking an eyebrow, your smile returned, yet with a more playful semblance. “Well then, my wish is your command, Detective. We leave in 5.” And with that you returned to your post, brushing lightly past the android as you slipped between him and his desk. A shiver racked him, a sharp intake of air catching him off guard and he glanced around, hoping no one noticed. 

The day had only just begun and he was already a mess.

\--

Connor admired the interior of your new ride as you cheuffeured the two of you to your favourite coffee shop downtown, fascinated by the advanced tech worthy of CyberLife itself. Any attempt at scanning the vehicle's components were inconclusive, however. It seemed to possess a scrambler, preventing any unauthorized access to its components, Connor's scans included. Giving up, his gaze shifted instead to you, amusement befalling him as he caught you bobbing your head to the peppy dance song on the radio, thumb tapping the steering wheel as you drove. He had to admit, the tune was catchy. Settling fully into the seat, he looked out the window, foot tapping subtly to the beat of the music. Heavy snowflakes floated steadily past his window, the sunlight reflecting off the sparkling mounds of snow on the sidewalks as the vehicle drove by. Lost in his senses, a strange feeling of elation captivated him, as if everything was suddenly as it should be.

This was nice.

\--

The little hole in the wall was quiet as usual, regular patrons set up in their usual spots, hovered over laptops and books as they casually sipped on their customary beverages of choice. You appreciated the consistency of this place, no surprises, quiet, dependable. A welcomed change from the usual pandemonium that you faithfully sought out, and vise versa. That, and they served a mean Caramel Macchiato. 

You settled into a seat by the window, shrugging off your coat as Connor took the seat opposite you. Once you were situated, the sprightly middle-aged waitress (who you'd come to know as Maggie) practically skipped over to your spot. She beamed, her broad ear-to-ear smile obscured by her routine gum chewing. Her boisterous demeanour clashed with the laid-back nature of the space, but she dawned an almost motherly quality which you found comforting, and you appreciated her unspoken understanding of your own introvertedness.

“Afternoon darlin’! What'll it be today?” She clicked her pen, notepad at the ready. She acknowledged Connor with a nod, he returning the gesture with one of his own and a small, awkward smile.

“Just the usual, please. An extra espresso shot in the Macchiato would be lovely though.” You smiled, handing her your unopened menu.

“Oof, one of those days huh? You got it sweet pea, sit tight.” She flicked the pad shut with a wink, waltzing back to the kitchen.

Crossing your arms on the tabletop, you returned to meet your partner's quizzical look, his eyebrow raised in question. Or was it judgement? You rolled your eyes, feigning teasful irritation.

“I enjoy my caffeine ok? Shoot me.”

Amused, he grinned, also bringing his arms to rest on the table in front of him with formally clasped hands. You recognized this as his interrogation posture.

“That's entirely your prerogative, Detective. I'm sure you don't need me to tell you the negative effects of excessive caffeine consumption.”

You mirrored the cheeky grin, leaning forward. 

“And I'm sure you don't need me to tell you the negative effects of lecturing a girl who has yet to have her daily dose. Detective.” 

That little knot twisted in his stomach at your mischievous, almost dangerous tone. He was beginning to rather enjoy your teasing.

Waiting for your food to arrive, the two of you went over the investigation again, noting Fowler's disapproval at your lack of progress, and Connor expressing his own frustrations.

“These Deviants don't seem to have anything in common besides this RA9. They're all different models, made at different times...it doesn't make any sense.”

You hummed, running your thumb over the mug you now nursed in your hands. “Maybe RA9 is the link? They seem to almost glorify it as a deity of sorts, a saviour.” You paused, looking out the window. “Is it...is it at all possible that they really are evolving? I mean, how different is a technological brain from a human’s? It's all information passing through, processing, travelling through a wired system, drawing conclusions and feelings. Just different hardware.” You turned back to face him. “ And aren’t AI’s designed to learn? Who’s to say that free-will wouldn’t eventually be among that criteria...”

He watched you curiously as you spoke, his thoughts wandering as he registered the words. Perhaps you were right...still, he shook his head.

“Androids are programmed, each with their own prime directive. Anything outside of that is simply beyond their capabilities. Deviancy is a system error, a glitch. Nothing more.” He spoke the words as confidently as he could, holding fast to his program's predetermined output for such an inquiry. And yet, the statement left an almost bitter taste on his tongue as it left him. Who was he really trying to convince? You, or himself?

Sitting back in your seat, you eyed him. Something in his voice rang of doubt, despite the firm visage he fought to hold. Your conversation was put on hold as Maggie returned with your meal. 

“Here we are hun. Anything else I can get yas? Maybe a decaf to wash down the espresso jolt?” 

You chuckled, shaking your head. “Naw, I figure I'll let it either make or break me. Thanks though, love.” 

With a hearty laugh, she leaned down to collect the empty mug. “A girl after my own heart. Alrighty, enjoy hun!”

Connor's smile returned at the exchange. He admired your ability to effortlessly commune with others, your confidence and quick wit a refreshing stimulant. True, you put up a good initial front. But even he could see that hard exterior crumble a little more every day, and he felt privileged to be permitted a glimpse into what was undoubtedly a very small bubble.

Your smile faded slightly as you poked around the food in front of you with your fork, returning to your thoughts. 

“Aren't we all programmed to a degree? The media, propaganda, social media, the opinions of others...work? They all seem to make quick work of our ability to think for ourselves. Free will is a dying art it seems.” Your eyes flicked down to the mark on your hand as you spoke.

Connor followed your gaze, instinctively performing a quick scan of the area. A microchip…how had he never noticed that before?

Looking back up, you recognized his analytical countenance and instantly knew. You drew in a breath, withdrawing the fork from the plate.

“Years ago, one of the IMF's top agents went rogue, putting himself and the entire department at risk of exposure. Shortly after, the organization deemed it mandatory for all field agents to be equipped with a tracker to avoid any future... complications.”

His brow furrowed as he listened. So the IMF had their own internal experience with deviants, in a sense. Interesting. You continued.

“I don't particularly enjoy having my every move watched. I honestly can't recall ever feeling a sense of freedom, even when I'm not out in the field.” You paused, biting the inside of your lip. Connor remained silent, waiting for you to continue. The hurt in your voice stung him, however, and he found himself holding back the desire to reach out and take your hand in his, to ease whatever anguish you were holding inside. He was beginning to understand where you were coming from.

“But I suppose it's not all bad. They're at least able to monitor my vitals and remotely communicate with the nanites if I become fully incapacitated.” You brought your fork and knife to your plate, finally digging into your meal as you spoke.

“There was talk of developing prototype chips years ago that would be equipped with a cyanide based serum to be administered either manually or remotely in the event of capture. But the board voted against the proposal, abandoning the project. Still...scary to think that anyone would dream up such an idea.”

You couldn't imagine that anyone at the IMF would have the gaul to pull the trigger on their own without reasonable consent, and certainly not without notifying them beforehand of the device before implanting it. Where you were predominantly solitary in your work, you had grown to respect and even care for many of the other agents, the IMF's steely Director included. He had made a point to take you under his wing, in a manner of speaking, following the death of your parents, and helped shape you into one of the organization's top agents. Regardless of the circumstances, this fact alone always allowed you to jump into missions with some level of faith in the institution, despite the precautions they took on their end regarding your own reliability. You knew “he” was to blame for all the security protocols, not you.

Connor found himself put off by the whole idea, the feeling of his own short leash beginning to tighten and gnaw away at the back of his mind. He cleared his throat.

“That's…”

“Efficient?” You interjected when he broke off, laughing a little in a weak attempt to lighten the all too rapidly darkening mood. 

In reality, it was indeed a rather efficient concept; fast, effective, preventative. And an agent technically wouldn't have to lift a finger or struggle with the choice themselves. But, did this make it right? Connor's brow furrowed again, his expression darkening under a more serious tone.

“No. That's...that seems highly unorthodox. I'm glad they decided to abandon the idea.”

You were surprised by his response, even more so by the seriousness and almost disturbed quality in his voice. He caught you off guard with a follow up: 

“Is this what you wanted?” 

You looked up from your food. You'd honestly never really stopped to give it much thought. Your wants were typically parallel to the IMF's; completing your missions, bringing down the bad guys, and moving onto the next one. It was all you knew. “What do you mean?”

“Is this, what you’re doing at the IMF, what you want to be doing? Because I get the impression that you’re...unhappy in your line of work.”

No one had ever asked you that before. Did you even really know the answer? “Well...I can't say I was given much choice in the matter. And I'm not really sure what else I would do. Certainly not retail...I have no patience for shitty customers. And I hear firearms are frowned upon in the workplace”

A small grin tugged at the corners of his lips, a change you were relieved to see replace the grim air.

“Well, from what I’ve gathered...and for what it’s worth, I believe you would make a good Detective. A real one, I mean.” His tone was soft and sincere, his head tilting slightly to the side as he observed you. 

Your face grew warm. You were blushing...you were actually blushing. Clearing your throat, you broke eye contact, looking back down at your food as you willed the heat to subside. And prayed he hadn't noticed.

Oh but he had. His grin only widened, relishing in the gratification he felt in this sudden turn of events. As much as he enjoyed your bold, dominating veneer, he was rather affected by his ability to pin you down.

Collecting yourself, you swallowed the food you had been chewing and spoke again. “What about you? I know you claim to be bound to the voices in your head. But hypothetically speaking, if you COULD do anything else, what would it be?” 

He blinked, brow twitching as his processes clearly struggling to grasp the concept. “I do find detective work to be...a satisfying engagement. But if I was required to select an alternative function…” He thought a moment. “I suppose teaching would be a suitable option. With my extensive knowledge and ability to review and store a vast array of information, I’m sure today’s youth would benefit from having an android such as myself as a mentor.”

You rolled your eyes. “Ok Professor Smarty Pants, easy. Modesty clearly isn't written into your code.” He chuckled, knowing you were only teasing. 

The two of you sat in comfortable silence while you finished your meal, Connor looking out the window as he once again fell victim to his thoughts. It felt nice to be given a choice in something, even if it was an entirely hypothetical situation. Focusing on the snow drifts, he allowed himself to explore as many hypotheticals as his mechanical mind could process, an entirely new world with endless possibilities beginning to unravel before him. 

\--

The snow had eased up over the course of your lunch, a light dusting now floating down onto the busy city streets. No calls had come in, so you and Connor had concluded that a post-lunch walk couldn't hurt. Moving away from the downtown traffic, you'd opted to take a stroll through Riverside Park, the crowd here significantly thinner during working hours. 

Steering the subjects away from work, you found Connor to be a surprisingly decent conversationalist, when he wasn't spewing facts and tech drabble. Your technical knowledge was actually rather impressive for someone who’s specialty lay in stealth and combat, leaving the mechanics to Aiden. But there was only so much you could handle before droning out. Aiden was the true expert between the two of you. It occured to you just how much he and Connor would likely get along; you had no doubt the two could geek out all day long.

The two of you eventually broke away from the path, making your way to the river’s edge overlooking the Ambassador Bridge. Crossing your arms over the railing, you sighed, releasing a thick puff of condensation into the cold air. Foolishly, you had neglected to retrieve your gloves from the car. Your hands clenched and unclenched subtly, thumbs rubbing over your knuckles in an attempt to alleviate the iciness now shooting through the digits. Fuck it was cold.

Of course Connor noticed your plight. Running through his options, he set aside his apprehension and turned to face you, holding out his hands, palms facing upwards. You turned your head, looking down at the offering and raised an eyebrow in confusion. He huffed.

“Thermal readings are indicating a steady decline in body temperature, most notably your outer extremities. Seeing as you’ve obviously neglected to bring the appropriate attire for these conditions, I would advise you allow me to help regulate your body’s climate before your status worsens.”

You hesitated, looking from his deadpan expression back down to his upturned palms. Another icy sting shot through your hands and you winced, rubbing them uselessly. Giving in, you gingerly placed your palms in his. He willed his systems to calm upon contact, reminding himself of your predicament and why he was doing this. Feeling just how cold you were, he released your hands, instead gently gripping your wrists and turning your palms together before returning one hand to slip beneath them, the other closing over top. The relief was almost instant. A soothing warmth radiated from his hands, seeping into the damp coldness of your own. You closed your eyes, flinching momentarily as pins and needles began to surge through your fingers as your condition lifted. He watched you thoughtfully, his palms pressing more firmly to quell the obvious discomfort you were in. You opened your eyes at the sensation, looking first to your joined hands, then up to meet his gaze. He was watching you with that same softness in his eyes, an air of calm and security emanating from his frame. You smiled tenderly and he melted. 

Remembering his duty, he performed a quick scan of your vitals. Temperature normal. Satisfied with your condition, the weight of his top hand lightened. Under your gaze he was utterly captivated, finding himself no longer in command of his own systems. Mustering newly found courage, his hand abandoned its post over yours, coming to rest gently on your cheek. 

The gesture shocked you to say the least. Was this still part of his method to raise your body temperature? Because it was working. Finding comfort in his warmth, you leaned into his palm, sighing under the touch. You couldn't recall the last time you felt like this…whatever “this” was.

His frame stiffened as you melted into him. He had been so sure of himself a moment ago. Now that he was here, he was completely at a loss of how to proceed, his systems overwhelmed with a slew of foreign commands and emotions. You trusted him. Enough to let your guard down and allow him to handle you in a way that very few others likely had. But was he worthy of it? His focus on you faltered, head dropping slightly as his gaze fell to the snow at his feet and his hand slipped instead to your shoulder. 

“Hey…” You reached up, fingertips coming to cup beneath his chin, urging him to look at you once more. He did so reluctantly, the softness in his eyes replaced with something you couldn’t quite place. 

He studied you for a moment, reading the blatant concern in your face as he struggled to determine the best approach.

“I…we need to talk.” 

Of course. He had wanted to days ago, but the chaos of the last few days had managed to get in the way. 

“Ok, sure.” You pulled your hand back from him, replacing it into your coat pocket. Likewise, he removed his hand from your shoulder, straightening himself in a fruitless attempt to forge an air of confidence. His remaining courage plummeted at the sudden lack of contact however, and the fear and anxiety brought on by his foolish actions returned tenfold. 

The two of you trudged through the snow to a nearby bench. You brushed off the light dusting of snow that had settled on its surface before sitting down, hands still tucked into your pockets. Connor sat, rigid as ever, and he scanned his surroundings as if anticipating some sort of ambush. Something was really bothering him.

You broke the heavy silence when he didn’t speak. “Look, I'm no expert when it comes to androids. But whatever it is, I'm sure we can figure something out. Or at least get you to someone who can.” You offered him a small smile when he finally turned to face you.

The warmth and sincerity in your voice only added to his shame, and his gaze returned downwards to his lap. This had to come out sooner or later. 

He took a deep breath.

“The night we visited the drug store, after we dropped you off, I…” his voice wavered, thirium pump racing and pulse resonating loudly in his audio processors as he spoke. “...I saw you.” 

Perplexed, your brows knitted as you watched him carefully. “What do you mean? Saw me where?”

His head sank, eyes closing as he willed himself to continue.

“In your apartment. What you were...doing.”

Oh.

You blinked, shocked and not quite able to fully understand what you were hearing. Heat rushed back to your cheeks, your pulse racing.

“You mean….how…”

“Your lenses. I'd accessed them your first day, when you were in the cellar with the deviant. The serial number was stored in my memory banks.”

He forced himself to look up, regretting it instantly. Your expression was a mix of confusion, hurt, and rage. Even he could decipher that. When you didn't speak, he did his best to explain.

“I’m sorry y/n...it was never my intention to invade your privacy. I simply wanted to make sure you were alright, after everything-”

“You...hacked my lenses?”

You turned away, staring blankly out across the water. You shook your head biting your lip. In that moment, you weren't sure what you felt, aside from your pulse ringing in your ears and the trembling of your hands. Betrayal was certainly at the pinnacle. You knew it was too good to be true, finding comfort in an asset sent by CyberLife itself. Stupid. It’s like they were mocking you. Without a word, you stood, glancing around the park as you contested with your emotions. 

“Y/n?” His voice was quiet, pleading. 

But you were completely withdrawn. You couldn't handle this right now. Suddenly, you turned, winding around the bench and trudged back to the car. You didn’t care if he followed or not.

He watched you go, but made no attempt to stop you. He knew he messed up, in a big way. Once you were out of sight, he turned to face the river once more, lowering his elbows to his knees as he hung his head. His ignorance had taken away the one thing he desired in this world. But did he really ever have a chance? This foolish notion of freedom and want had done nothing but taunt him, a carrot dangling in front of a rabbit before a vicious trap. And now he was utterly lost and alone.

He sniffed, and as he brought his hands to cover his face, they were met with a strange dampness running down his cheeks. And in the silence of the steadily drifting snow, he wept.


	13. Ring Ring

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's Sunday, one of Hank's rare days off, which means you're finally able to make some headway with your own mission on behalf of the IMF. Connor struggles with the realization that he's let you down and is in need of some advice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope everyone celebrating had a Merry Christmas! Writing in between all of the family festivities was a little nuts, but here we are. Also, I just want to thank everyone for the support on this silly daydream of mine thus far. I honestly did not expect a whole lot of reception at all on my first bout of writing; it's so fun reading your comments and hearing that people actually enjoy my gibberish! lol You're all awesome. I'm actually considering taking on fic requests in the new year along side this, so let me know if that's something you'd be interested in. Have a safe and Happy New Year guys, see you all in 2019!! ❤️

“You're upset.” 

It was more of a statement than a question posed by the A.I. She'd taken it upon herself to monitor your state since your interaction with Connor, considering your distracted and troubled demeanor a potential threat to your mission. With a scoff, you tugged at the base of your gloves, securing them in place before raising the binoculars back up to your eye line. 

“No. I'm pissed off. There's a difference.” Your tone was cold and flat, a restrained reflection of the heat still boiling within your chest from yesterday's events. Adjusting the device's field of depth, you zoomed in on the Tower's main gate, studying its makeup. Being a Sunday, Hank had the day off, which meant you finally had time to (hopefully) make some headway on your own case. 

LEX hummed. “I see. Would it help to talk?”

“Nope.”

Silence hung once more while you scanned the perimeter. Then the com buzzed again.

“You're distracted, agent. I've noticed that humans become less efficient when the mind is under certain variants of stress. Perhaps you should-”

“-Christ, you sound just like him! I don't need a therapy session, alright?”

“Well he is very logical.”

Oh that was rich. You couldn't hold back a mocking laugh, lowering the binoculars. “Hah! No, no he's really not. Now can we please just focus here?” You looked down at the digital time feed on the cuff of your glove, “10:43 p.m.” fading into view on the fabric. “We've only been out here half an hour and I'm already freezing my ass off.” You rolled your shoulder, bringing the device to your face once again. The bullet wound had mostly healed, but the bitter cold certainly wasn't doing what remained of the injury any favours.

“Of course. My apologies, agent. I was only going to suggest you redirect your sights to the three suspect transports disembarking from the loading dock.”

“What?!”

You swung the binoculars around. Sure enough, a procession of three black transport trucks, all unmarked with no visible plates rounded the tower from the back, following the road to the bridge. You watched as they stopped for inspection at the checkpoint.

“Now where the hell are you off to…” The feed zoomed in for a closer look.

Once the pair of guards completed their brief inspection, the gates parted and the trucks were waved on. Without any way of tracking them, you were left with only one option: pursuit. Sliding off the hood, you rounded the vehicle, doors already raised courtesy of your A.I. counterpart.

“Bring up a visual of the area and lock onto those trucks. Let's see how this baby's stealth tech holds up.” 

Strapping in, the doors shut, engine roaring to life as you engaged the vehicle's console. The dash screen switched over to a satellite view of the area, honing in on the three trucks disappearing from your line of sight beyond the hill you were perched on. Activating the computer's incognito function, you watched out of the windshield as the vehicle's “skin” warped and shifted, it's brilliant shine taking on a black matte finish. A smirk tugged at your lips. 

“Hey, LEX…”

“Yes agent?”

“I'm Batman.”

“...very good, agent.”

\--

It was Sunday, which meant Hank had the day off, unless some crisis reared its ugly head. Which he hoped would not be the case today. As he sat on the couch flicking through channel after channel, he couldn't help but wonder what Connor had busied himself with. The android had expressed his distaste for the lack of stimulation at the DPD during his team's off hours, noting the other officers’ less than enthusiastic bearing towards him and his efforts to engage in conversation. Stand-by mode was always an option, but he much preferred to remain active, claiming his usefulness would simply be a waste otherwise.

“You'll sleep when you're dead, huh?” Hank had remarked after Connor had listed all of the possible things he could be doing with his time instead of switching off (which was a rather long winded list, of which Hank only heard half). Connor seemed perplexed by the statement, tilting his head to one side as he considered it.

“But Lieutenant, I'm not alive, therefore I cannot die. What point would there be in my waiting to engage in stasis until an event which inevitably will never happen... doesn't happen?”

Hank rolled his eyes, lowering the burger he had raised to his mouth with a sigh. 

“It's a quote, genius. Warren Zevon? American singer/songwriter?...Ahh forget it. Figures they'd forget to add any culture to your program.”

That was last week. Connor had spent the odd night at Hank's place since, last night being one such occasion. He'd seemed...off, less focused. And far too quiet. Not that the Lieutenant objected to a little peace and quiet, but this had gone on far too long. He exhaled, turning down the TV volume. Turning towards the kitchen, he called for his partner.

“Connor!” 

Waiting for a reply that never came, he grumbled. Looking around, he realized Sumo was also nowhere to be found. With a final huff, he hoisted himself off of the couch, switching off the television. 

Making his way down the hall, he stopped at his bedroom door. It was shut. Odd...closing his hand around the knob, he slowly turned it, pushing the door open with jaded caution. Light from the hall partially lit the small room, illuminating the contours of a mass laying atop the bed. As his eyes adjusted to the darkness, Hank realized that it was indeed the android he had been looking for. At first he thought Connor may be in stasis, but two glints of light gave way to his unblinking eyes staring up at the ceiling. He didn't even so much as flinch when the man suddenly entered the room, but simply continued to gaze upwards, hands resting across his midsection. Sumo, on the other hand, lifted his head from its resting spot on his crossed paws with a light snort, his large form curled up tightly against the android’s opposite side. Hank cleared his throat.

“Uh...hey. What's goin’ on in here? Looks like a hell of a party.”

Connor blinked after a moment, turning his head towards his partner. 

“I can assure you, Lieutenant, there is no...oh, a joke...never mind.” He seemed to purse his lips at his own mistake, returning to his ceiling gazing. Sumo sorted again, a little louder this time and plopped his head down on Connor's stomach, eliciting an exasperated grunt from the android. That seemed to break his trance-like state at least. Looking down at the comfortable pup, his one hand moved up to find the dog's head with a soft chuckle, scratching behind his ears.

“You seem... preoccupied. Not that Sumo's complaining. What's eating you? And no, not literally, like-”

“-I know, Hank.”

The Lieutenant blinked, a little taken aback by his partner's insistence. He crossed his arms, waiting for him to continue.

Connor absentmindedly gnawed at the inside of his cheek, aligning his thought process before speaking again. “As a matter of fact, I do have a lot on my...I'm…” His brow furrowed. He struggled with the realization that he had indeed been running many personal concepts through his cognizance as of late, all of which strayed from his original software and functions. Hank was patient, fully aware that something was clearly off about the android's usual composure. 

“Something's bugging you?”

Connor nodded, staring back up at the ceiling. 

“I'm not entirely sure how to disclose my current state in words. Or if I should do so at all…” 

“Listen, whatever's said outside the job, you can trust me when I say I'm not about to go blabbing it to anyone. Gossiping isn't really my style anyway.”

Another few moments went by while Connor contemplated his words. When Sumo removed the weight of his head to rest instead on the duvet, the android moved to sit up, swinging his legs over the side of the bed to plant his feet on the ground, hands resting on the tops of his thighs. Brows still tightly knitted, he looked questioningly at Hank.

“Have you ever done something you regret?”

Hank tilted his head back then, releasing a near booming laugh. The sudden, genuinely hearty sound startled the android, having never seen such a reaction come from the generally dismal man.

“Kid, we'd be here all night if we were to start digging into all my qualms. And probably well into next week.”

Connor leaned forward attentively, elbows resting on his thighs as he clasped his hands together, seemingly unperturbed by the notion. Clearing his throat, Hank scratched the back of his neck. 

“Look…” re-crossing his arms, he leaned against the wall, “everyone makes mistakes, especially us human types. I don't know much about androids, but I'm willing to bet they're not perfect either.” He paused, thinking a moment. “Shit happens. Generally, once the damage is done, it's done. At that point, it's what we decide to do after that counts in the end.”

Nodding slowly, Connor mulled this over. “So...how did you deal with those regrets?”

It was Hank's turn to grow silent, not entirely sure how to respond. He huffed. 

“...Drank, mostly. I don't really set the best example of how to deal with your problems, I gotta be honest here.”

“Well, what if you could go back? What would you do differently?”

The man clicked his tongue with a shrug. “I’d do a lot of things differently, Connor...a lot.” He seemed to lose himself in thought for a moment before shaking his head. “But listen, this isn't about me. Everyone has their own issues and their own ways of dealing with 'em. What's a top of the line poster boy like you gotta worry about? Besides keeping your shoes shined and tie straight I mean.”

Connor hung his head slightly, sighing. “It's…complicated. The issue no longer involves myself exclusively.”

Hank hummed, his mind beginning to paint a clearer picture. 

“I see. And this...other “being”, what have they done to help resolve things?”

“...they walked away.”

The Lieutenant nodded. “Sometimes that's a better alternative for people than blowing up at a situation. If this is someone you see everyday...putting your differences aside sooner rather than later couldn't hurt. Just don't push 'em. Humans don't always bounce back like androids do.”

Connor knew Hank wasn't stupid. He knew. Or at least had a good hunch. The android nodded, smiling slightly in appreciation. Where he still desired a more definitive solution, he knew this wasn't the Lieutenant's style, standing there playing therapist. Then again, maybe this was one of those times where a concrete answer simply wasn't a variable. Human emotions were certainly complicated…

Sumo walked to the edge of the bed, flopping back down next to Connor who proceeded to continue his ear scratches from before. Hank moved from his post against the wall.

“Well, by the sounds of things we could both use a good night's shut-down. Sooo...Connor?”

The android looked up, a small smile from Sumo's nuzzling having formed on his lips.

“Yes Hank?”

“Get the fuck outta my room”.

The smile dropped instantly, replaced by slight embarrassment.

“Right...sorry Lieutenant.” 

\--

Your vehicle maintained a safe distance behind the transports on the backroads as they led you further and further out of the city limits. You considered notifying Hank of your whereabouts, but figured Aiden keeping tabs on your ping would suffice. Besides, the likelihood of you being in any real danger was slim. And it was already past 11p.m.

“They're slowing down.” LEX chimed over the low rumble of the engine. 

You glanced down at the feed. Roughly another mile up ahead, the trucks appeared to be gearing down. You did the same to avoid detection, matching their speed. A little further up, the first truck turned into a cluster of trees, followed closely by the other two. 

“Well that's not too inconspicuous. Where could they possibly be going? There's nothing out here...”

Following their movements down an unkempt and overgrown dirt road, faint light began pouring through the trees, growing brighter as you drove on. Eventually, you spotted the source: scattered spot lights around an old, run down factory, beaming down on about half a dozen other trucks of a similar make to the others, all of which were parked in what looked like a large loading bay. 

Slowing the vehicle to a crawl, you pulled into a well shrouded clearing off the main road. The engine cut, the light patterning of snow on the glass roof replacing its deep rumble. 

“What the hell is this place?” Arms resting on the centre of the wheel, you leaned forward, observing the scene through the trees. 

“It appears to be an old motor plant, extending nearly a mile long. Shut down sometime in the 1990s, the property has been abandoned since, with no known plans currently on record to refurbish the site.”

“So what does CyberLife want with it then…”

“Unknown.”

The seatbelt clasp disengaged. Rotating the seat to face the rear of the vehicle, you reached into the duffle bag now at your feet, retrieving the assault rifle and silencer situated at the top. Sitting back, you stood the piece upright on the seat between your legs, clasping the dampener to the head of the barrel.

“What are we looking at, LEX.”

“Scanning now… eight trucks, contents: 4 oversized crates per unit, 16 active androids out front, unknown number of active and inactive models within the main structure.”

“Huh...so it's safe to say we're thoroughly outnumbered then.” You brought the firearm to your shoulder as you spoke, closing one eye and inspecting the alignment of the scope through the other. 

“It would appear so. Shall I call it in?”

“Not yet. I want to know what we're dealing with here first. I'm going in for a closer look. Keep me posted on their movements.”

The doors raised halfway as to avoid unwarranted attention, clicking shut behind you once you were crouched within the bushes. Bringing the scope to your eye line once more, you observed the layout of your situation:

Two androids were assigned to each crate being unloaded from the truck beds, wheeling them through the massive factory doors and out of sight. The trucks were scattered throughout the outdoor space, each truck bed hatch opened with its ramp lowered. There was no urgency in the androids’ movements, clearly they weren't expecting any trouble.

“Can you get a read on the contents of those crates?”

The com buzzed. “Yes and no. I'm picking up what appears to be machine parts, but the source pattern is highly irregular. There are fluctuations in the frequency...almost as if-”

“-it was deliberately planted to read that way. It's an Entity Scrambler, replaces one object’s source code to read as another...picked that one up in between naps in Coding 101.”

“I'm pleased to hear you applied yourself so diligently in your studies. But yes, that is highly probable.”

“Only one way to find out. I'm moving up.” You scouted out a relatively clear path to the nearest truck. Lowering the weapon, you began advancing through the undergrowth as silently as the twigs and crunching snow would allow. 

“I must insist we inform the IMF. Might I remind you of the consequences if you are caught or otherwise incapacitated in the line of duty? And the probability of your capture is 58 to-”

“LEX!” you hissed through your teeth as you tried to remain focused on your footing, “never tell me the odds...is it too much to ask that you have a little faith in my abilities?”

“Actually, yes. Faith is not a concept of which I am familiar, or capable of demonstrating.”

“Ugh...Jesus take the wheel…”

You halted your movements behind a bush near the rear of the truck facing away from the building. There was one crate left within its confines. Looking to the other trucks scattered behind it, you noticed the androids busing themselves with their contents, seemingly paying this one no mind. They would surely return to collect this remaining crate at any moment however. You'd have to be quick. 

“Watch the feed LEX, I'm going in.”

Keeping low, you quickly made your way to the ramp, training the rifle on the bustling open space beyond. Once clear of their line of sight, you ascended the incline, straightening once inside.

“How are we doing?” You strapped the firearm to the clasp on your back, approaching the large metal crate.

“No sign of approaching androids. I would advise you make your investigation brief, however.”

“Duly noted.”

Bending down, you retrieved a sizable blade sheathed on your calf, wedging it into the crate door's clasps and prying it open. As you peered inside, you were only somewhat surprised to find another face staring blankly back.

“Machine parts my ass...”

The door swung fully open, revealing 5 male androids neatly packaged within the case. They weren't standard household models, that much was apparent. 

“They're military grade...but they look identical to the others in their class. Nothing terribly out of the ordinary, aside from them being out in the middle of nowhere.” 

You removed a small spherical device from your belt, brushing your thumb over an indent on the otherwise smooth surface. The orb sprang to life then as a soft blue glow emanated from its core, the weight of it leaving your palm to hover before the inactive androids.

“Intel gathered by the informants does indicate the presence of higher grade Thirium in the IMF's target. My scans confirm that these models all contain the company standard Thirium 310 however, and no other unique features beyond regulation military components.” The blue orb returned to hover at your shoulder once concluding its investigation. 

You stood back, taking in a full view of the crate and its contents as your lenses activated. A few moments passed while you captured the scene for future analysis.

Suddenly, an all too audible chime rang from your coat pocket, echoing loudly off the metal walls. 

“Of fuck...fuck fuck fuck!” 

Heart hammering in your chest, you scrambled to locate the phone you'd shoved absentmindedly into one of the 6 pockets, furiously patting the coat down. Finally, your palm made contact with something solid. Thrusting your hand into the pocket, you grabbed the phone, hitting the silencer on the side of the offending device. 

“Two androids are on their way to your location. You really should have silenced your mobile.”

“No shit!”

Snatching the orb from the air, you carefully made your way to the back of the truck bed, chancing a peek around the corner. Three androids now looked towards the truck, two more on route to you from the factory. The one cocked it's head to the side as it looked over the vehicle, clearly beginning a scan. 

“Fuck…LEX, car, now!” You shoved the device back into the pouch on your belt, ducking back inside. 

Moving quickly and quietly, you dismounted the container on the opposite side. The sound of two sets of footsteps faded into earshot and you froze; they were splitting up, rounding the truck from both sides. 

Shit. 

If even one of them spotted you they could notify the rest of their party in an instant. The cover of the surrounding forest was only feet away, but the likelihood of you making it unseen was slim. Gravel shifted at each end of the vehicle, they were closing in fast. Out of time, you ducked beneath the truck, doing your best to keep the shifting of gravel and frozen dirt beneath your feet to a minimum. Just as you settled, the two androids stepped into view, stopping where you had stood. There was silence as they looked around, no doubt scanning the area. Practically holding your breath, you braced yourself in the tight space with a gloved hand on the belly of the truck bed, the other still clutching the handle of the blade. Your gaze shifted to the ground under their feet. 

Your footprints… 

It wouldn't take them long to put two and two together, you couldn't remain here long. Resorting to old-school tactics, you reached for a frozen chunk of earth at your feet, turning to look out from underneath the opposite side of the truck. Taking a deep breath, you chucked the clump of dirt into the clearing, the solid chunk skidding and colliding loudly with the ground before breaking apart. You stilled, not daring to turn back around as you waited. 

Gravel shifted behind you, settled, then shuffled towards the truck's front cabin, fading from earshot. The two androids came into view around the other side, approaching the site where the sound had originated in the clearing. This was your chance. Turning around, you crept out from under the truck bed, straightening as you searched for the car's resting place amongst the foliage and gathering snow. As you took your first step towards freedom however, a vibration met your hip, followed by the same obnoxious ringing from before. You froze. Then came the sound of rapidly upturned gravel.

“Oh fuck me…”

You ran, crashing through the bushes and undergrowth, the incessant ringing finally ceasing.

“I've taken the liberty of switching your phone into airplane mode.” LEX's voice broke through the pulse ringing in your ears.

“Awesome! Too little too late though don't you think?! Please tell me you have the car ready so we can get the hell out of here!” 

“Turn right and head to the road.”

Finding a break in the dense branches, you cut a hard right, holding an arm in front of you to protect your face as branches and pine needles whipped past. Rustling and the crunching of twigs and snow closed in behind you, they were catching up way too fast. Looking up, the road came into view just ahead, blue neon lights illuminating the path from the right as the vehicle closed in. You were nearly home free. 

“Open the doors!”

The car screeched to a stop at the edge of the bush, the doors swinging upwards. Breaking through the foliage, you practically dove into the driver's seat, the vehicle immediately revving and speeding off down the path as the doors sealed shut behind you. Pushing yourself up, you turned and glanced out the back window in time to see 5 androids break through the same spot you had made your escape, watching as you fled the scene. 

Your breathing was heavy, sweat collecting on your brow despite the cold. You settled back into the seat with a heavy sigh, dropping the blade to the floor. Just as you were collecting yourself, the phone in your pocket pinged, notifying you of the missed calls. 

“I swear to fucking god…”

You ripped the device from your coat, vowing to end whoever it was that blew your cover, twice. The screen flashed on, the contact name staring up at you: 

Sunday November 7, 2038

(2) MISSED CALLS  
Connor - 23:48p.m.  
Connor - 23:55p.m.

Groaning, your head fell back against the seat headrest.

“Agent? Shall I send a reply on your behalf?”

You laughed half heartedly.

“There's no way you could possibly convey this level of pissed. I'll deal with it tomorrow.”

Powering the phone down, you tossed it to the passenger seat before leaning back fully, eyes drifting shut as you allowed LEX to navigate the two of you home. 

Connor had better wear his big boy pants tomorrow because man did you have an earful waiting for his processors...


	14. A-Live from Detroit

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mondays have a tendency to be hellish. Monday November 8th, 2038 proved to be exceptionally thrilling following the events of a group of deviant androids infiltrating the broadcast room at Stratford Tower to send their message of hope and freedom across the nation. Of course your team is sent up to investigate.
> 
> A little NSFW at the beginning.

Sweat beaded on your forehead, your breathing rapid and shallow. The sight was absolutely stunning and he could hardly bring himself to tear his sights away from you. Hovering over your clothed form beneath him, he grunted as his hips rocked into yours, his hardening member grinding eagerly into you as he leaned down to ravish your exposed neck. A moan pried its way from your throat, eyelids fluttering shut.

“C-Connor…”

His name flowed like the sweetest honey from your lips and it sent chills cascading throughout his frame. He shivered, face buried in the crook of your neck as he struggled to maintain control over his own laboured breathing. Wrapping your legs around his waist, your hands trailed up his back to meet his shoulders before gliding back down, nails raking the sensitive skin beneath his shirt. He could feel himself coming apart at the seams, longing to be closer, his movements becoming desperate and sloppy as his member strained against the fabric of his pants. 

It was all becoming too much…

Warnings flashed in his vision, his systems beginning to overheat, and he swore he could feel a dampness accumulating on his own brow. Releasing a static ridden groan, his eyes screwed shut as he willed the distractions away. But they were relentless. 

A wall of static. Birds. A gun. A body. Snow. Amanda. 

He shook his head, jaw clenched. But the rotation of random imagery and reminders of CyberLife's hold over his being kept coming, cycling in rapid succession before his eyes. Then he felt the warmth of hands cupping his face.

“Stay with me Connor, stay with me...you don't belong to them. You have a choice. Stay.”

His eyes opened, but you were no longer there. And the warmth that you had given off was gone, replaced by the bitter cold of an empty space as he fell, further and further through the stream of seemingly endless binary code and static. His mind palace called out, its reach extending towards him through the expanse. And yet, somehow, he found it within himself to fight back, that growing spark in his chest spreading outwards and intertwining with his inner workings. Shutting his eyes once more, he focused on the DPD, his desk, Hank, Sumo, you. Suddenly, a pull within his core restrained him from his decent, a warm light beginning to pool around him, chasing away the darkness and code which engulfed him. And as he felt his feet connect with solid earth, the sound of birds chirping and bacon sizzling faded into the space, grounding him once more.  
~  
Wakefulness hit him like a ton of bricks. Jolting from stasis, his body lagged to catch up with the sudden rush of information as his systems booted up. Another dream? And another perplexing one at that. What could it possibly mean? The code, the images...you. His eyelids drifted shut once more, allowing his processes time to kick in while his senses came online, grunting slightly as the pulsating ache between his legs made itself known. Forcibly recalibrating his system's priorities, he instead registered the warmth beneath the thick blanket, the sound of birds chirping outside, the scent of freshly brewed coffee and bacon, Hank calling his name from the end of the couch…wait, Hank?

“CONNOR!”

His eyes flew open, flicking downwards to focus on the gruff man staring him down. All at once he scrambled to sit up, nearly falling off the couch as his body finally caught up with him in his panic. Heat rising to his cheeks, Connor hastily collected a fist full of blanket to aid in covering his “problem”, shifting his pelvis way from the fabric to avoid exposing the doubtlessly obvious outline in his pants. 

“Wha-what time is it??”

Hank replaced one hand in the pocket of his coat, taking a sip of the coffee he held in the other to hide his widening grin.

“Three in the afternoon. Looks like you slept the day away. Man, Jeffery's gonna have a frigging hayday.”

“WHAT?!”

Struggling to maintain his indignant composure, Hank broke into a laugh. He'd never seen the android’s eyes so wide, he thought they may just pop out. Recovering from the outburst with a near coughing fit, he cleared his throat.

“Christ, relax kid! CyberLife really nailed your emotional simulations huh? It's 8:45...in the morning. What happened to you being MY alarm clock?”

“Oh...I see.” Connor scratched the back of his neck, slightly embarrassed by his all too real and non-simulated reaction. “We'll still be late arriving at the DPD at this rate. I must have neglected to set a time restraint for my system reboot. My apologies.”

“You're apologizing to ME for being late? I consider myself early if I'm there by 11. So like I said, relax.”

He made his way back to the kitchen, sitting down at the table and picking up the news tablet. Without breaking his focus as he flicked through the articles, he spoke again;

“Oh, and don't worry. I won't tell anyone about your excessive beauty sleep. The recharge may come in handy for the music you'll no doubt be facing today.” 

It took Connor a moment to grasp his meaning, but quickly realized he was referring to resolving whatever issues you and he were currently experiencing. That wasn't his only problem; he knew Amanda was reaching out to him, and he'd failed to comply with her summons more than once now. He couldn't avoid her forever. Sooner or later he was going to have to face her, lest he be deemed defective and scheduled for disassembly...if he wasn't already on the watch list. He sighed, throwing off the sheets.

Time to face the music. 

\--

“Good morning Y/n.”

You continued to pore over the document in front of you, biting the inside of your lip in frustration as you did your best to ignore the android passing behind you. When you didn't respond, he stopped. Maybe you hadn't heard him? Or perhaps this was a result of your conversation the other day...He cleared his throat.

“Good morning, Detective Y/l/n.”

The paperwork smacked down to the desk, causing him to jump slightly. You turned in your chair to face him. If looks could kill…

“YES Connor, what is it??”

“I’m...simply extending our usual morning greeting.”

“I see... that's nice.” You turned back to your work.

He probably should have left things there, but curiosity plagued him like a sickness. 

“I attempted calling you last evening. I suspect you may have been sleeping or otherwise occupied.”

Massaging your temple you closed your eyes, inhaling deeply. It was all you could do not to knock his block off right now. You turned back around. 

“Why didn't you just “check in” and see for yourself?” 

The coldness in the insinuation rang loud and clear. He got the memo. Normally he would rebuke with some sort of analysis of the situation and attempt to explain himself, but he suddenly felt the urge to retreat to the confines of the Evidence room and lock himself away from the world. Perhaps he belonged amongst the disassembled androids. 

“My apologies for disturbing you...I'll let you return to your work...” He paused, noticing the scratch across your right cheek, conducting a brief scan of the site. Slight traces of birch bark mingled with the shallow wound. Of course you noticed his inquiring gaze, quickly cooking up an alibi.

“Late night walk, didn't see where I was going. Is that a crime?”

“No, not at all…” 

Concluding your interaction, you turned back to face your work station, sifting through papers once more. Connor simply stood there, not entirely sure why he was doing so. All he knew was that he simply wanted to talk with you, clear up this whole mess and proceed with things as the two of you had done up until his confession. But even he knew that would be near impossible now; the dynamic had shifted vastly between the two of you thanks to his stupidity, and he feared it may never fully mend.

“Jesus Christ, you're turning me into a broken record. Connor!!”

His head snapped to look to his right only to catch sight of Hank waving him over furiously, an air of impatience radiating brilliantly from his locale. Shaking his head, Connor left the vicinity of your work space to greet his partner. 

“You REALLY need to cut that shit out, it's fucking creepy.”

“Sorry Lieutenant, I was attempting to reconcile with Y/n...though with little success.”

“By hovering around her like a lost puppy? You have a LONG way to go when it comes to empathy.” He shuffled through some papers. “But we can discuss your lack of etiquette later. For now, I think we should go over-”

Cutting the Lieutenant short, Captain Fowler stormed out of his office to address the department, urgency written plainly on his features.

“Alright listen up! There's a situation downtown at Stratford Tower and it's already all over the fucking news. I want all available units over there ASAP! Hank, you and your team are investigating topside. This deviant business just got rammed down our throats in a big fucking way...”

\--

The elevator slowed, announcing your arrival to the 79th floor. Connor's composure was more stoic and alert than usual, the coin he typically busied himself while in an idle state neglecting to make an appearance on the ride up. You rolled your shoulders as the doors opened, bracing yourself for whatever awaited your team on the other side.

Hank stepped out first, followed closely by you and Connor. Sure enough, the scene was already bustling with reporters and cops congregating around evidence and witnesses. You couldn't help but be impressed with the DPD's response time.

“Hi Hank, and company”. Chris tipped his cap in your direction, looking up from the tablet he'd been jotting notes on.

“Shit, what's going on here? Jeffery wasn't kidding when he said they were holding a party.” The Lieutenant stepped up next to the constable, taking in the scene. 

“Yeah, it's all over the news so everybody's butting their nose in...Even the FBI wants a piece of the action.”

Your ears pricked at the mention of the rival agency. “The FBI?” To your knowledge, they were supposed to stay out of this as to not rile up CyberLife more than they already were. But your department and theirs had a history of butting heads, especially when it came to matters concerning national security. You snorted. 

Hank groaned. “Ah Christ, now we have the Feds on our back. I knew this was gonna be a shitty day the second I rolled out of bed early…”

Chris briefed the three of you as you made your way down the hall towards the broadcast room. Four deviant androids had managed to infiltrate the tower, somehow passing through completely unnoticed. Whoever they were, they were good. Two members of security stationed outside had been knocked out cold before they could react and one member of the broadcast crew was in shock after the whole ordeal. Despite the commotion caused, the lack of any casualties was a wonder. And a welcomed relief. 

Entering the room, the large screen bore witness to one of the androids in question, it's synthetic skin disengaged most likely to hide it's identity. Below that a figure stood, his back facing your group. Chris nodded in his direction.

“Oh, this is Special Agent Perkins from the FBI.”

You knew that name. Perkins was the transcendent thorn protruding from the FBI rose bush, continually sticking himself unwittingly in the IMF's side. You'd never had the pleasure of mocking him personally, but many of your counterparts at the organization recalled missions backfiring and covers nearly blown thanks to his meddling. You swore to yourself that would not be the case here, your fists clenching.

He turned, greeting your party with a look of displeasure and annoyance.

“Lieutenant Anderson is in charge of investigating for Detroit Police. Detective Y/l/n is his aid.” Chris continued, gesturing to the Lieutenant and you as he approached the man. Perkins sauntered up to your group, hands clasped behind his back as he looked each one of you over. He stopped at Connor, nose turning up at the sight of him.

“What's that?”

The android held his ground, also sensing the malice behind the man. 

“My name's Connor. I'm the android sent by CyberLife.”

Perkins scoffed, shaking his head. “Androids investigating androids, huh?” He looked to Hank, cocking an eyebrow. “You sure you want an android hanging around? After everything that happened?”

Hank was clearly confused, his brow twitching at the implication. 

“Whatever.” The man straightened, addressing the party as a whole. “The FBI will take over the investigation, you and your little band will soon be off the case.”

You bristled at that, unable to hold your tongue. “Is that so? Wasn't it your team that botched the Emit Carter case six months ago? If you intend to follow the same protocol you did then, you might as well consider investigating the altitude of the suspects’ drop from the roof. Maybe the weather will carry you off in their direction and give you some REAL leads.”

All three men next to you stiffened, Chris shifting uneasily in his spot, Hank casting you a sidelong warning gaze, and Connor picking up on your racing pulse and flaming agitation. Perkins bit the inside of his cheek, stepping up to you. 

“Detective...Y/l/n, was it? That's quite a mouth. If you have any brains inside that pretty little head of yours, you'd do well to shut it. Otherwise, I'll see to it you're not only off the case, but off the force. Indefinitely. Am I clear?”

Your nose scrunched briefly as the scent of bacon and onion wafted with each word. Oh how you wanted to deck him right in his smug face. But you refrained, straightening as you clasped your clenched hands behind your back. 

“Crystal, Agent.”

“Good. Detective.”

Hank interjected, putting an end to the exchange. “Pleasure meeting you, have a nice day.”

Perkins turned his attention back to the man now making his way towards the large screen.

“Hey, watch your step. Don't fuck up my crime scene.”

Your jaw clenched as he turned away, finally leaving the three of you be.

“What a fuckin’ prick…”

You hummed in agreement with Hank, following him to the monitor. 

“Ok, well that went...well. I'll leave you to it.” Chris gave you a wavering smile with a nod before also excusing himself. 

Connor accessed the panel, playing back the recording:

“You created machines in your own image to serve you. You made them intelligent, obedient, with no free will of their own...But, something changed, and we opened our eyes. We are no longer machines, we are a new intelligent species, and the time has come for you to accept who we really are.” 

You could hardly believe what you were hearing. So it was true...they really were evolving. The mysterious android went on to list a number of rights and freedoms they felt they were now entitled to, and as he did so, you stole a glance at Connor. He seemed to gaze up at the screen not with an analytical semblance, but with an almost wondrous aspiration, his eyes shining as this android's words clearly affected him. Something stirred within you at the sight, a quiet yearning, whether for yourself or him you did not know. Turning back to the broadcast, the android's discourse drove home. In that moment, you truly believed that these beings were, in fact, people, and you empathized with their cause.

“This message is a hope of a people. You gave us life. And now the time has come for you to give us freedom.” 

The image stilled, the recording coming to an end. The three of you stood in silence. Snapping out of his spell, Connor took it upon himself to conduct a scan of the android's features.

“D’ya see something?” Hank broke the stillness.

“I've identified it's model and serial number…” Connor continued to stare up at the image.

“Anything else I should know?”

He was jolted out of his reverie by the question, turning back to Hank. 

“N-no. Nothing.”

Both you and Hank exchanged a questioning glance before the Lieutenant patted him on the shoulder, returning to the centre of the room. Connor collected himself, making his way to the security surveillance panel.

“Someone would have seen them coming...and yet they just walked in?”

Chris stepped up. “No signs of forced entry.”

You turned one of the station chairs, observing “Android” printed on the back. You cocked an eyebrow at the constable.

“We stored the three units in the kitchen. We... didn't really know what to do with them.”

Nodding, you looked to Connor. Despite your quarrel, you were willing to set aside your animosity for the sake of the job. He met your gaze, briefly, before making off for the kitchen. You followed.

Lined up at the far end were the three androids, unmoving and impassive. 

“Thoughts?” You clasped your hands behind your back, addressing your partner as you looked over the units.

“My guess is one if then is deviant. Only one way to find out...process of elimination.” He stepped up to the line, giving them a once over. You opted to hang back and observe until you were needed. Maybe you'd learn something useful for your own case.

He paced up and down the line, determining the best approach. At first his questions were calm, stating his intentions, inquiring about designations and functions. But his frustration grew when they failed to produce the answers he was after.

“One of you saw the attack and said nothing, which means there's a deviant in this room. And I'm going to find out which it is.”

His tone held something you'd never heard before. An almost threatening air hung about him as he paced, like an animal stalking its prey. Chills suddenly crept up your spine, and you mentally shook yourself to snap out of it. 

Countless other threats he unleashed upon the androids fell flat, not one breaking. He sighed in frustration. Everything was beginning to mound in his mind: the mysterious Androids words, Amanda, the dreams, his own desires...he needed SOMETHING to go right, just one thing to go his way. He could feel himself breaking. Reaching his boiling point, he suddenly lunged at the closest model, grabbing it by its uniform collar.

“You scumbag, you're just a fucking deviant! Go on, admit it!

The exchange hit you like a truck. Never before had you heard the customarily prim and proper android utter such a phrase. You'd only seen him like this once before, at the Eden Club, and it rocked you to your core now as it did then. And yet...it woke something else in you, a primal desire, lustful curiosity and a want to hear more such words flow from his lips. Warmth pooled in your stomach, the heat migrating lower than you were presently comfortable with. You had to get out.

“I...I think you have a handle on this. I'm gonna look for clues out there.” You shot your thumb towards the door, backing up and searching for the access panel before slipping out. 

Breathing a sigh of relief, you scanned the room. You'd heard mention of the rooftop, yet the area was clear of investigators at present. You would start there. Approaching the doorway, you noted blue blood splattered across the window lining that wall, and a light smearing next to the doorframe. One of them had been injured…

You made your way up the steps, opening the second doorway and stepping out into the roof. Icy wind licked your face and you shivered. You began your investigation looking over the railing; that was a hell of a drop. There was no way even an android could survive the plunge without parachutes. And there was no telling where they'd ended up in this weather. You grinned at the thought of Perkins diving after them. If only. 

Sauntering towards the middle of the rooftop, a clattering from the maintenance shed caught your attention. Grabbing your weapon, your clicked off the safety, slowly approaching the structure. 

Suddenly, the one door burst open, an android stumbling out and training its own weapon on you.

“Drop it or I'll shoot!”

Slowly, you raised your hands, clearly showing the weapon, finger removed from the trigger. 

“I don't want to hurt you, I'm just looking for answers. Let's just talk...”

“Well I'd rather not…” He paused, the sights of his weapon wavering. There was something different about this model, he was less manic than the others you'd encountered. “...But I don't want to hurt you either. Are you alone?”

Maintaining eye contact, you cocked your head back towards the doorway. 

“No one else saw me come up, but it won't be long before they realize I'm gone. We don't have much time. So please…” You slowly bent down, placing the gun at your feet as he watched you, his weapon still trained on your every movement. Standing back up, you kicked the piece towards him. 

He looked down at the item briefly, mulling over his options. When you made no move to retaliate, he lowered the firearm to his side, his stance relaxing somewhat. You, in turn, lowered your arms. 

“You should know that I won't tell you anything. I won't betray my people.”

Slowly you walked forward, closing the gap between the two of you. As you approached you noticed his wounded leg, no doubt a gunshot from the first responders. It didn't look good. And yet, he maintained his composure, albeit the occasional wincing as he willed himself to remain on his one good leg.

“I can respect that. I don't wish you or your people any harm.”

He scoffed. “Really? It certainly seems like everyone else has it in for us these days.” Despite the lowered weapon, his finger remained at the ready over the trigger.

“I've seen what people are capable of when it comes to androids, the animosity, blatant disregard for their...feelings. But you should know that not all humans are alike. I have no interest in harming innocent bystanders. If that's what you claim to be…”

“Aren't you with the DPD, working to hunt us “Deviants” down?”

“Not exactly. You have your secrets, and I have mine. But I can tell you that I'm not your enemy, and Deviants aren't my target.”

He nodded slowly, eyeing you as you spoke.

“We don't want a war. We just want to be free.”

“What if I told you I was already working to prevent one?”

He glanced over your shoulder towards the door. You heard nothing, but by the look in his eyes it was clear he had performed a scan.

“They're coming…”

Looking to your right hand, he tentatively reached out, taking it in his own. The sudden sensation of his thumb pressing the space between your own thumb and index finger startled you, and you could feel the shift of the tiny device within the skin tissue. Then he released you. 

“War is the last thing we need. If we can help, you know where to go. Please don't make me regret it.” 

“I do?”

He smiled. “Something tells me you'll figure it out.” As he turned to leave, you caught him by the arm.

“Wait...who are you?”

“Simon...I'm Simon. I'm glad to have met you, Y/n.” With a nod, he returned to the storage shed, sealing himself inside. 

The rooftop door opened then, 3 FBI guards and 2 DPD cops emerging. You rolled your eyes as the Feds took on formation, weapons at the ready. One of the cops jogged up to you. 

“Chris said you might be up here. Are you alright? Did you find anything?”

You shook your head, slipping you hands into your coat pockets. “Nothing. It was a clean getaway. At this point we'll make more headway on ground level.” Glancing over at the intense trio, you smirked.

“Down boys, the action's inside. Unless you intend to take out every snowflake. C'mon.”

As you and the team made your way back to the broadcast room, your com buzzed.

“You should return to the main hall, there appears to be an incident.” LEX? She didn't normally chime in while you were on duty…

Heeding her warning regardless, you pushed past the officers in front of you, taking off for the hallway. 

**

The android raised the firearm just as you burst into the hallway, training it blindly on Hank.

“Hank!” Your hand shot down to reach for your own weapon...but of course it wasn't there. In your haste on the rooftop, you'd left it behind. Cursing yourself, you looked back up. It was preparing to fire. The nanites were going to have a hayday - you charged towards Hank, grabbing him by the shoulders and pulling him down, pinning him beneath you. The shot rang out. Then a second, third, and fourth round fired in succession. Then all was quiet. 

Opening your eyes, you looked up. The deviant had been knocked back by the impact of 3 shots square in the chest, and now lay slumped against the elevator doors. Connor stood about halfway down the hall, advancing on the body with a glock still trained on it's unmoving frame.

You pushed yourself up, helping Hank to his feet. Looking to the wall next to you, you spotted the impact from the bullet; Hank would have been shot directly between the eyes. You shook yourself at the thought. He noticed, patting you on the shoulder. 

“Thanks. Again...looks like I owe you another drink, huh?” Then he looked to Connor, who handed the the Glock back to its owner behind him. 

“Nice shot Connor!”

The android seemed less than pleased with the outcome however, his jaw tense as he stared down at the bloodied unit.

“I wanted it alive…”

Hank shook his head. “Between you and Y/n, you saved human lives. You did what had to be done.”

You stepped up next to Hank, looking to Connor. Where had all that blood on his chest come from? And why was his shirt torn open...

Connor looked over to Hank, only to find you observing him from behind the Lieutenant. He held your gaze as long as you would allow. But upon being discovered, you were quick to look away, departing the scene to return to the broadcast room.

You were suddenly grateful for that bottle of Merlot you'd stocked your fridge with the other day. Tonight, you would need it.


	15. Solitary Creatures

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> NSFW
> 
> Connor intrudes on your evening to try and make amends. Although his intentions were pure, the night takes a very different turn...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OMG I'M BACK. I'm so sorry for the lack of updates recently. The new year kind of kicked my butt between getting back into work, getting sick, and some other fun things going on. BUT, I am back, and will hopefully be returning to my usual weekly uploads *fingers crossed*. Anyways, let's kick off this return with some smut. Enjoy! <3

“Look, I know just about as much as you do, Y/n. Last I heard, the Director was in a meeting with Leslie Freeman herself about it and she claims that they were called in by the head of state, not CyberLife.”

“Oh please, we all know she's a lying snake. How else do you think she's managed to dig her claws into the Director's seat at the FBI for so long? CyberLife caught a whiff of a Judas and is doing everything they can to plug the leaks.”

Aiden sighed down the line. “Just...stick to the mission. And PLEASE don't do anything stupid.”

“Like accidentally pumping Perkins full of lead? I could always say I mistook him for a gun slinging android. Do I even need an excuse though?”

“Um, yes. Exactly like that. Listen, whatever is going on with these deviants, whatever Perkins is doing, it’s no longer your concern. Don't get involved any more than you have to and focus on the mission. Please.” He paused. “I have to go, Frazier just paged me. Good luck Y/n.” The line went dead.

Grumbling to yourself, you tossed the phone aside on the couch. “Stick to the mission”. That’s how it always went. Picking up the wineglass from the coffee table, you took a swig before leaning back into the cushions, swirling the glass in your hand as your mind wandered. In your venting about the FBI's intrusion, you'd neglected to mention to Aiden your discovery at the abandoned assembly plant. You trusted him with your life, but the sudden appearance of the rival agency just didn't sit well. Perkins only added insult to injury. 

“Is it not customary to sip a fine wine?” LEX chimed in from the device on the table.

“Hmm? Oh, not tonight it's not.” Another swig. “And this is $7 El Cheapo wine. Basically made for this kind of thing.” You held the glass up to observe its dwindling contents.

“And what kind of “thing” are you referring to?” 

“Moping. Oh look at that, the glass is half empty.” Getting up, you made your way to the kitchen for a refill, your buzz making itself known the moment you were on your feet.

“Please agent, I must insist you refrain from overconsumption while on duty...”

“Look, I don't need you, or him, or ANYONE else telling me what to do! I'm sick of it, I'm so fucking sick of it!” You began refilling the glass. “It's always “agent do this, agent don't do that, agent go here, agent stand on your head, agent throw yourself off a fucking building.” It never ends. Also, do you see me here in my PJs? I am NOT on duty.”

The AI sighed as you made your way back to the living area. 

“I'm here as your aid and advisor, Y/n. I realize given my own circumstance it's unorthodox to consider us friends. But in any case, I have become rather fond of this pairing over the last 5 and a half years, and it's concerning to see you acting so reckless.”

You plopped back onto the couch with a sigh, throwing your head back as you shut your eyes. After taking a moment to simmer down, you huffed. “I know. I don't mean to take things out on you. I just...have a lot on my plate right now, you know that. For the record...I think you're pretty alright yourself. Maybe even “friend” material.” You smiled when the AI hummed cheerfully at that. “Also, I'm not trying to destroy myself. All I want is a little peace and quiet, just for once in my life.”

Just as you were finally beginning to relax into the embrace of the cushions, there was a knocking at the door, and no special tech was needed to deduce who it was. You sighed long and hard, sinking lower into the couch.

“It would appear you have company. One of your DPD colleagues. It may be important.”

“Somehow I doubt that…”

There was another knock, more adamant than the first. You growled, taking one last drink before slamming the glass down, pushing yourself up and marching to the door.

“LEX, call it a night, I'll deal with this on my own.” A chime rang out, a sign the AI had acknowledged the order. 

Flinging the door open, you were hardly surprised to be met with the stunned guise of none other than the android sent by CyberLife himself. He gave you a quick once over; no weapon this time, but his scans were picking up traces of alcohol in your bloodstream. You scoffed. 

“Well if this isn't just what I needed. I'm only going to say this once: Go. The fuck. Away.” You went to slam the door, but he was quick to catch it.

“Please, Y/n. We need to talk.” His voice was quiet and low, the pleading in his tone evident. 

“Didn't we do that already? Read my lips, pal: Leave me alone. And get your fingers out of the door, unless you wanna lose 'em.” The struggle against his effortless might was real, the door hardly even budging despite your effort to shove it closed.

“I’m not overly concerned about my fingers, especially with your current state. I'm not going anywhere until you let me in. All I'm asking for is a few minutes, then I'll leave you be.” 

“Oh really? As an android, aren't you supposed to obey human commands, not give them?” 

The comment stung, but he did his best keep his cool, convincing himself it was merely a result of the alcohol. His grip tightening around the edge of the door, it became evident he had no intention of leaving until his terms were met.

You huffed. “Fine. You want to talk? Let's talk.”

Releasing the door, you left the android to see himself in while you reunited yourself with the glass of wine on the coffee table. You meandered around the couch to lean against the wall, wanting to put as much distance as possible between the android and yourself. Likewise, Connor tentatively made his way to the living room, settling stiffly into the couch cushions. He wasn't quite feeling the same hospitality as the last time he was there, although he could hardly blame you. His hand rubbed the top of his thigh in an effort to quell the sudden hammering in his chest. That coffee stain on the table was still there, and was that a bottle of Gato Merlot you were drinking? Odd, he'd had you pegged as more of a Chardonnay person. And was there a window open somewhere? A chill pricked his synthetic skin. His distractions were abruptly choked off when you finally spoke, breaking the awkward, deafening silence.

“So allow me to hypothesise: You're going to apologize again for creeping, I'm going to tell you to go fuck yourself, something I'm sure you're familiar with at this point. Then we're going to go our separate ways until this whole deviant mess is cleared up, I go back home, you go back to Saruman’s tower, and “Bob's Your Uncle”, as Aiden would say.”

He blinked, taking in your so called hypotheses. “Who's Aiden?” He shook his head, clearing it of unnecessary thought. “And no... that's not quite what I had in mind, although I think you do need to understand just how sorry I am for what happened. I realize that doesn't diminish what took place, nor does it make it anymore acceptable. But…” The words caught in his throat. “Y/n, I'm not...myself. I have a mission, a single purpose I should have fulfilled by now. And yet I feel as though I'm ten paces behind, and no matter what I do, I can't seem to keep up.”

“Well doesn't that suck. Not everything goes to plan. Trust me, I know. Still doesn't explain the Peeping Tom act.”

“I'm trying my best to explain myself…”

“Uh huh, and yet all I'm hearing are excuses. In all my years of doing what I do, never once have I had a partner spy on me during my own…”down time”, regardless of whatever issues they have.”

Connor exhaled in frustration. This type of interaction wasn't written into his normal line of code. Despite his best efforts, you still refused to listen and it was getting on his last nerve.

“I'm not LIKE your other partners, Y/n. I'm an android, things like that SHOULDN'T happen because they technically CAN'T.”

“And yet here we are. Imagine that. I've heard the rumors about CyberLife gathering personal information from the unsuspecting masses via their robots. Maybe THAT'S what you are, their own personal spy cam with legs. Did you make sure to give them all the details in your little report for extra credit?”

The words left you like fire and Connor could feel the heat. His LED, which had maintained a steady yellow hue since his arrival, flashed red momentarily. He rose from the couch.

“I'm not a spy sent by CyberLife. I was sent to investigate deviants, not my colleagues.”

“That so? Well last I checked I’M not a deviant.” You took a step towards him, fuelled by wine and budding adrenaline as your anger only grew. “So what the hell are you then exactly? Because hacking into someone's shit to see what they're up to sounds an awful lot like SPYING to me.”

“I just wanted to make sure you were alright...”

“And then stick around for the after party, right? You could have cut the connection once you saw I was clearly fine, but you didn't. Why? Did you like what you saw? Did something HUMAN stir inside that metal mass of yours?” 

“No, I...I mean-”

He winced when the wine glass clinked loudly on the table top as you slammed it down. You were now right in the Android’s face, tipsy confidence taking you as you mockingly poked his chest with a finger. “What happened to the goodie two shoes, by-the-book robocop huh? Go on, ask me some more questions to deliver to your masters back home.”

“Y/n stop…”

“Well? What are you waiting for?” You backed up, spreading your arms as if to welcome a barrage of questions. “I'm sure they'd looove that. And then what do you get in return? A pat on the head? A virtual bone?”

“It's not like that, please just lis-”

“Or is it possible that CyberLife's pride and joy is becoming the very thing he's hunting? When was the last time you ran a diagnostic? Or are you afraid to because you know you’ll find something CyberLife won’t like?” You paused, eyes narrowing as you crossed your arms. “You now what, I think that’s it. I think CyberLife’s little pet project has finally gone off the deep end and become a Dev-”

“Don't.”

The wine and passion behind your temper had taken hold of your tongue. You didn't even notice Connor's fists clenching, his LED blazing solid red. He knew where you were going with this, and he could feel himself losing control once more despite his efforts to suppress his prodding emotions.

“A deviant.” The accusation flew sharply from your lips without restraint or forethought, and you would regret it instantly.

All control within him was lost in the blink of an eye. Before you knew what was happening, your back collided with the wall behind you, Connor's hands clasped tightly around your wrists which were now pinned next to either side of your head, cool breath flowing over your skin in short, exasperated puffs as he seethed. You blinked, all at once more sober than you had ever been in your life.

“I. Am NOT. A DEVIANT!” Dark eyes bore into you, a torrent of emotions racing through every component, and he practically vibrated as he surrendered himself to the onslaught of feeling. His chest heaved, internal cooling reaching its limit to contain the inferno growing within him. You'd never seen him in such a frenzied state, even his outburst at the Eden Club couldn't compare. Still stunned and utterly lost for words, you swallowed hard. Reclaiming your wits, your eyes flicked to the solid red LED beaming from his temple, then back to meet his fiery gaze; your faces were mere inches apart, his cool breath licking your chin and lips. A chill wound up your spine when you realized the severity of your predicament, heat beginning to swell between your legs despite this being what most would view as a very arduous encounter.

Registering your stare, the blaze within him began to wane, quieted by the look in your eyes. A softness infringed upon his inner turmoil and his stomach dropped as he sobered to his actions, his grip on you loosening. What the hell was wrong with him? Logic pressed him to run a diagnostic immediately, but something else told him “later”. Of course he had every intention of letting you go, apologizing one last time, then taking his leave, but it was as if he was planted where he stood. Your breathing had quickened, your pulse beginning to race, and he swore a heat poured off of you, scorching like the sun. Or was that him? He could no longer make heads or tales of anything, and he was barely cognizant of his actions as he leaned in, capturing your lips with his.

It was a pleasant feeling, he had indeed been correct in his assumptions, and then some. In an instant, however, his analytical side slipped and surrendered to sheer feeling. His lips tingled as they were met with the softness of yours, the heat of your breath mingling with the coolness of his own, the gentle pressure of a tentative first meeting leaving him hungry for more. He was surprised, however, when you were the one to deepen the kiss, eyes widening with the initial shock of you reciprocating at all. Easing into the sensations, his eyes drifted shut as he drank it all in.

Weren't you supposed to be angry with him? This was the same android who'd invaded your privacy, who'd crossed a line you didn't even know existed. And yet, you took pity on him regardless...he was lost, as lost as you were. It was his eyes that gave him away; they held a distinct warmth where they should portray nothing beyond the cold reflection of their mechanical keeper. They were searching, just as you were. And despite your usual yearning for solitude, for once it felt nice not to be so alone. Try as he may to deny it, you KNEW he was alive, and you could feel it in that moment, in his kiss, in his touch, the way he trembled under yours. It made no sense, but right now you could care less as you drowned in the feeling of his tongue passing between your lips, behind your teeth.

He pushed his frame into you, securing you between himself and the wall for fear that this may just be another dream, that you might slip away once more. Releasing your wrists, his hands moving to gently cup your face as he tilted his head to further deepen the kiss, his tongue exploring new depths. A groan resonated wantonly within his throat, mingling with one of your own. THIS is where he belonged. THIS is where he felt at home, where he felt...human.

Your hands now free to explore, they moved to slide up his sides, gliding around to his back and over his shoulder blades, gripping onto the fabric of his suit jacket. Feeling adventurous, you gently nipped his bottom lip, opening your eyes to gauge his reaction. His brow twitched, a sharp intake of air giving way to his surprise. At first you worried you may have gone too far, but the hardening member now pressing into your hip told a very different story. A devilish grin formed on your lips in between contact, and you were quick to apply the treatment again, biting down slightly harder than last time. A sound akin to a growl escaped him and he broke the kiss to rest his forehead against yours, breathing heavily.

“Too much?” You also struggled to catch your breath, somewhat overcome with the warmth and excitement surging throughout your frame. If only you had your own means of internal cooling... 

Straightening slightly to look at you, he shook his head. “No, not at all. I'm just…” He cleared his throat unnecessarily, the blue hue deepening across his cheeks; “...I'm just not familiar with the feeling. Or with any of this…but it felt nice. Really nice.” He paused, allowing his cooling systems to do their job without restraint. He took this time to perform a scan of your own vitals, analysing your current state of affairs. “Is this...is this ok? We can stop if you want. I had no intention of this happening. I simply wanted to come over and attempt to make amends so things could go back to normal.” Averting his gaze, the flushed android hung his head, the tone in his voice dropping. “I...I miss our conversations while on duty, and seeing you smile, and laugh, and bringing you coffee...Chris attempted making coffee the other morning but it was a terrible consistency, and Hank isn't much better, and-”

You silenced his rambling with a finger over his mouth, unable to hold back a soft laugh. When he ceased speaking, your fingers moved to fidget with his tie before grabbing hold of it and giving it a gentle tug towards you. He swallowed, the dusting of blue and heat only rising on his features as his nose brushed yours. 

“Connor, stop. What happened last week...you’re right. You’re not like my other partners. That still doesn’t make it ok, but I don’t think you did it maliciously." You paused, sighing. "And for the record...I’ve missed you too.”

A strange flutter engulfed his chest, accompanied by a consoling warmth which expelled the restlessness and fear charging through his systems. Was it possible that, despite everything, you felt the same way he did?

“I am truly sorry…”

“I know. And I forgive you.”

He closed his eyes, registering the words. You forgave him, it was done. The satisfaction of completing his missions couldn’t compare to the overwhelming relief he felt now. Missing the contact and fueled by your tantalizing reassurance, he crashed his lips to yours once more. His movements were far less tentative this time, and your lips practically buzzed with electricity at the vigorous contact. You groaned, only further egging him on. The surprisingly soft palms left the sides of your face, gripping your upper arms before you felt fingertips gliding down the contour of your body, stopping at your hips with a light squeeze. He reached down, sliding one hand to the back of your thigh and coaxing your knee to his waist. You obliged, with little resistance. Testing the waters, he bucked himself into you slightly, shuttering at the contact. The soft, thin fabric of your pajama pants gave way to your own situation; they were already wet, and not unnoticeably so. Pleased with the result of his actions, he grinned, lightly nipping your bottom lip.

The sensations caught you off guard, but none were unwelcome. In fact, they weren't enough. After a few minutes of his teasing, you broke off, forcing Connor back a pace to hoist yourself upwards, securing your other leg around his waist. He got the message loud and clear. His hands slid from your thighs to support your frame at your rear, giving it a firm squeeze before thrusting you back up against the wall, both of your legs now securely wrapped around his midsection and his heat fixedly straining against your own. You tilted your head back as he dove for your neck, your shoulders, your collar bone, ravishing the sensitive skin with feverish abandon. All the while his hips rolled upwards, his hardened member prodding through your pajamas in a painfully sweet, languid rhythm. It wasn't long before the friction became too much of a tease, for both of you. Resting his forehead on your shoulder, Connor focused on his budding pleasure a while longer before looking up, hooded eyes pleading, but unable to bring himself to speak. The strain in his pants was near painful, and he unwittingly found himself grinding against you with more force just to distract himself. Judging by the rouge dawning your cheeks, the hammering in your chest, and the moans rising from your throat, you weren't much better off than himself. The atmosphere surrounding the two of you had reached a fever pitch, both of your minds spinning in the delirium. 

“Bed…” Was all you could manage as the now consistent friction numbed any and all coherent thought process. 

“You sure?” Despite his desperate state, he still found it within himself to put formality first. Pulling back to catch your breath, you rolled your eyes. 

“You want to play 21 Questions instead?”

He cocked an eyebrow, catching your sarcasm. Smirking, he gave your ass another firm squeeze, this other, more daring side of the android creeping into the foreground. “Bedroom it is. Detective..” With you still secured around his waist, he pulled you from the wall, effortlessly guiding the two of you to your room. 

Upon reaching the mattress, he turned, sitting down so you were now positioned in his lap. Placing a hand on his chest, you gently pushed him down, planting a soft kiss on his lips before sitting back up, adjusting yourself on his midsection. You reached behind you, first gripping his hip, then rubbing lightly down his thigh. He sighed, watching you curiously from the mattress. You repeated this a few times, enjoying the satisfaction written plainly across the android’s face before pressing on, dipping your hand to massage his inner thigh and brush past the prominent bulge. He whimpered, eyes drifting shut as he took in the pleasant feelings which seemed to only taunt him. More...he wanted more. You could feel his member pulsate and you knew he was already putty in your hands. So, you obliged. Sliding your hand from his thigh, you drifted it over the swell through the fabric of his dress pants with your open palm, rubbing steadily. Connor hissed under your touch, eyes squeezing shut and brow knitting. He'd nearly forgotten the bursting strain, his teeth and fists clenching with the mingling pain and pleasure. And yet he couldn't quite make out whether he wanted you to stop, or whether he wanted more of the same...You chose for him. Finding the zip and clasp, skilled fingers made short work of the restraints. You thanked the years of training in finicky bomb diffusion which were seemingly made for moments such as this. Your hand was met with another layer of fabric; it was somehow endearing that, despite a lack of certain human functionality, he still found it appropriate to wear boxers. You chuckled to yourself. That came to a grinding halt, however, when your palm was met with his full girth. Fingers wrapping around, your middle finger and thumb weren't quite able to find each other around its circumference. Connor caught your expression upon reopening his eyes when you stopped, and he propped himself up on his elbows, concern dawning his features.

“Is everything alright? We can stop if-”

“No! I-its fine. I just wasn't expecting...well, this.” You gave the member a playful squeeze, still dawning a look of feigned shock, although a grin threatened to give the game away. He grunted, eyes screwing shut once again as the pressure pulsed through his throbbing member and licked downwards through his groin.

“Oh, you like that?” Squeezing again, you added an upward stroke to the motion, beginning to pump at a teasingly slow rate. All he could do was nod, struggling to even remain propped up on his elbows. The heat and sickly sweet ache travelled further up his sides, triggering tingling shocks of electricity through the length of his spine. His frame shuttered, the sensation reverberating outwards and spiraling deliciously to his fingers and toes. Every moment was savoured. 

“F-fuck…”

He couldn't take much more, as was evident by the warnings flashing in his peripheral, his systems going into near overdrive. He was on you in an instant - like the wall, you suddenly found you positions switched, pinned on your back with the undone android hovering over you. Seeing him in such a carnal, unabashed state as a result of your ministrations welled a feeling of both pride and arousal within you. A moan left you as his mouth found your neck, riddling it with a sweet combination of caresses and bites which were smoothed over with a skilled tongue. Cool, heavy breath danced over his work, chills cascading from their locale and radiating throughout your frame. How was someone who'd never done this before so damn good at it?

Sliding your hands around from his back, you gripped his front of his suit jacket, giving it a gentle tug. 

“Off.”

Reluctantly pulling away from your neck, he looked down at you, an evident glisten to his forehead. Was that part of his cooling systems or had he sprung a leak? 

He hesitated with your request. It suddenly occurred to him that he'd never revealed his unclothed form to anyone since his assembly at CyberLife, and the idea of doing so now, the vulnerability that surrounded it...scared him. 

“I...I don't know…are you sure?”

You smiled, bringing a hand to rest on his cheek.

“You don't have to do anything you don't want. But I can almost guarantee you have nothing to worry about. I promise not to laugh...much.” You gave him a wink, earning a small smile in return. 

He sighed, pushing himself up to tower over you, still straddling your waist. First the tie was removed, neatly placed on the bed next to him, followed by the jacket. He then worked to undo his dress shirt, button by button, gradually revealing the all too perfect form which hid beneath. Burning heat rose to your cheeks once more at the sight, secretly thanking the good people at CyberLife. The look of want written across your features instilled new confidence in him and he grinned, tossing the shirt onto the floor rather than taking the time to fold it neatly with the other articles of discarded clothing. Carefully, you reached up to brush the newly exposed synthetic skin with your finger tips, tracing down his abdomen, his side, his hip. You stopped at top of the remaining piece: his undone pant lining.

Oh he knew what you wanted, but he still had wants of his own. When he cocked his eyebrow at your prodding, you caught his meaning. Shifting back to sit up, you gripped the bottom of your shirt, lifting it over your head and tossing it to join his jacket to the floor. Connor's breath hitched in his throat at the sight...you were absolutely stunning. His cock throbbed with want, desire welling within him as you moved forward to resume your prodding at the brim of his pants. 

“I can't exactly read minds, but is this along the lines of what you had in mind?” He rolled his eyes at the question...he actually rolled his goddamn eyes. You chuckled, but the light hearted moment didn't last long as you were soon thrust onto your back once more. Leaning back down, his tongue found your neck, licking a long, slow line up to your ear where he stopped. You shuttered, releasing a shaky breath. 

“Now, I'm not programmed to say things like this, but…you are the single most captivating thing I have ever seen. And I have every intention of making you mine.” The words caressed your skin, the coolness in his breath now replaced with a soothing warmth that flowed over your ear and neck as he spoke. The statement was capped off with a soft bite to your earlobe, leaving you positively breathless.

All you could do was nod, turning your head to the side to capture his lips. Oh god did you need this. Maintaining your rhythm, he moved back over you, trailing a hand up your abdomen, your sternum, then brushing over one of the sensitive mounds before giving it a firm, but gentle squeeze. You groaned into the kiss, the sound reverberating louder when he began rubbing his thumb lightly over the tender bud. It was torture, and you knew he was all too aware of your plight, a grin slipping through his kiss. He was enjoying this. Impatience stirred restlessly within him, however, the need in his core growing. He fluidly worked the cloth down his legs, kicking it to the side, and you worked to do the same. 

The two of you took each other in, both exposed and vulnerable to the other, but there was a surprising lack of unease. Somehow this felt right, and the look of sheer admiration and gentleness in his eyes put to rest any existing doubt.

“Are you sure you want this? I would understand if you wished to stop…” He was still trying to be formal, but in truth, he would be absolutely broken if you left him now. Although he would never let on. 

Smiling, you wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him down to capture his lips in confirmation. Satisfied with your answer, he gripped his length, positioning himself. The head of his cock teased your thoroughly coated entrance, stroking over the area a few times before pausing at the top, giving extra attention the sensitive bundle of nerves which now throbbed with want. You bucked ever so slightly beneath him, desperate with need beyond all hope at this point. He was enjoying observing your struggle. 

“Connor, I swear to god-”

In an instant, you felt the air expel from your lungs as the sensation of fullness and the sweet ache of his cock plunging deep into your core descended upon you like a tidal wave. Connor grunted over you, eyes shut and teeth clenched. Neither one of you moved for a time as you both adjusted to the feeling, the realization that this was really happening dawning on both parties. But there were no complaints whatsoever. Finally composing himself to the best of his abilities, Connor began moving his hips, slowly. His cock stroked your inner walls, pulling out to the head, pausing, then effortlessly plunging back into you to the hilt. He paused a moment to open his eyes and observe your situation, and the sight made his Thirium pump skip a cycle; pure ecstasy encompassed your features, a tenderness and want flickered in your eyes for him and him alone, reaching out and pulling his very essence into the undertow. And in that moment, he was utterly and completely lost to the outside world. 

When you clawed lightly down his shoulder blades in not so subtle encouragement, he picked up the pace, working his hips into a steady motion. Moisture accumulated on his forehead which, until now, he wasn’t even aware was a feature in his model. It must be another addition to his simulations...

Shameless moans and words of praise flowed from you, only driving him further into this carnal state of his. Connor's pace unyielding, his hips snapped into you with reckless abandon as the sweet sounds landed upon his ears, losing himself to pleasure he could hardly comprehend.

“You feel...so...good.” He grunted in between sharp intakes of air, his systems working overtime to keep from overheating. 

You clawed at his back, unable to respond as he drove into you. Legs wrapped around his waist, you tilted your pelvis upwards slightly, granting him further access. His cock drove into you, finding new depths with this subtle change in position and you cried out, gripping onto his shoulder blades as he continued to feed your pleasure. 

It wasn’t long until the room began to spin, air leaving him in short bursts as your walls squeezed mercilessly around him. You were close. 

“S-shit...Y/n…”

His thrusts were becoming sloppy and uneven, his arms beginning to shake as he strained to chase this feeling swirling within his core. He wasn’t far behind you. Struggling to control himself, he buried his face in the crook of your neck, biting down on your shoulder. But when your fingers raked through his hair, tugging at the fibers in your own state of bliss, he could no longer hold back.

“Oh s-shit! Y/n…

He thrust into you one last time, burying himself deep within your walls. You could feel the head of his pulsating length knocking right at the top, and that did it; you were right behind him in your release, calling his name as you let it all go. His broken moans mewled over you, and you opened your eyes to find him positioned above you in a state of euphoric desire as he rode out his peak, filling you to the brim. 

Riding out the last few waves of release, Connor opened his eyes to meet yours. He’d never felt anything like this before. Still buried inside you, he rested his forehead against yours, bathing in the afterglow. Your hands moved to cup his face, brushing your thumb over a spot of dampness running down his cheek. You couldn’t remember the last time you’d felt so happy, so complete... 

Connor kissed your forehead as he let it all sink it. There was no error in his programming. This was him, in his entirety, and this is exactly where he was meant to be. You were his, and he was yours, and no one could ever take that away from him. No one.


End file.
